dFTHB 
JNTVEIWITY 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  BADGER 


DICK  PUSHED   HIS  RIFLE-BARREL  THROUGH  A  CREVICE  IN  THE   ROCKS.' 


The  Trail  of  The  Badger 


A  STORY  OF  THE  COLORADO 
BORDER  THIRTY  YEARS  AGO 


BY 
SIDFORD  F.  HAMP 

Author   of   "  Dale    and   Fraser,    Sheepmen, 
"  The  Boys  of  Crawford's  Basin"  etc. 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 
CHASE  EMERSON 


W.  A.  WILDE  COMPANY 

BOSTON  CHICAGO 


Copyrighted,  igo8 
By  W.  A.  Wilde  Company 

All  rights  reserved 

The  Trail  of  The  Badger 


PREFACE 

IN  writing  the  adventures  of  the  boys  who  fol- 
lowed "  The  Trail  of  the  Badger  "  down  into 
that  part  of  Colorado  where  the  fringes  of  two 
discordant  civilizations  overlapped  each  other 
— the  strenuous  Anglo-Saxon  and  the  easy- 
going Mexican — the  author  has  endeavored  to 
show  how  two  healthy,  enterprising  young  fel- 
lows were  able  to  do  their  little  part  in  that 
great  work  of  Desert  Reclamation  whose  im- 
portance is  now  as  well  understood  by  the  gen- 
eral public  as  it  always  has  been  by  those  whose 
lot  has  been  cast  to  the  west  of  meridian  one 
hundred  and  five. 

To  some  it  may  appear  that  the  boys  are 
ahead  of  their  time,  but  to  the  author,  whose 
introduction  to  "  the  arid  region  "  dates  back 
thirty  years  and  more,  remembering  the  condi- 
tions then  prevailing,  it  seems  no  more  than 
natural  that  they  should  recognize  the  unusual 
opportunity  presented  to  them  of  making  a 
career  for  themselves,  and  even  that  they  should 
be  dimly  conscious  of  the  fact  that  if  they 
__  5 


6  Preface 

"  could  make  two  ears  of  corn,  or  two  blades  of 
grass,  to  grow  upon  a  spot  of  ground  where  only 
one  grew  before  "  they  would  be  deserving  well 
of  the  infant  community  of  which  they  formed 
a  part. 

That  in  making  this  attempt  they  would  meet 
with  adventures — in  fact,  that  they  could  hardly 
avoid  them — the  author,  recalling  his  own  ex- 
periences in  that  country  at  that  time,  feels  well 
assured. 


CONTENTS 


I.  Dick  Stanley 

II.  Sheep  and  Cinnamon 

III.  The  Mescalero  Valley 

IV.  Eacing  the  Storm  . 

V.  How  Dick  Brought  the  News 

VI.  The  Professor's  Story 

VII.  Dick's  Diplomacy  . 

VIII.  The  Start       .... 

IX.  Antonio  Martinez 

X.  The  Padron     .... 

XI.  The  Spanish  Trail 

XII.  The  Badger    .... 

XIII.  The  King  Philip  Mine  . 

XIV.  A  Change  of  Plan 
XV.  Dick's  Snap  Shot    . 

XVI.  The  Old  Pueblo  Head-Gate 

XVII.  The  Bridge     .... 

XVIII.  The  Big  Flume 

XIX.  Pedro's  Bold  Stroke     . 

XX.  The  Memorable  Twenty-Ninth 


11 

32 
61 
68 
87 
102 
116 
129 
147 
165 
179 
191 
203 
221 
241 
259 
276 
294 
313 
333 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Dick  pushed  his  rifle-barrel  through  a  crevice  in 
the  rocks"     {Frontispiece)         ....       42 

It  was  a  splendid  chance  ;  nobody  could  ask  for  a 
better  target" 57 

Passing  on  our  way  through  the  town  of  Mosby  ' '     137 

Behind    him,    stood   the   squat  figure  of   Pedro 
Sanchez" 213 

I  could  not  think  what  he  was  doing  it  for  "        .     286 


The  Trail  of  the  Badger 


CHAPTER  I 

Dick  Stanley 

LOOK  out !  Look  out !  Behind  you,  man  I 
Behind  you  !  Jump  quick,  or  he'll  get 
you!" 

It  was  a  boy,  a  tall,  spare,  wiry  young  fellow 
of  sixteen,  who  shouted  this  warning,  his  voice, 
in  its  frantic  urgency,  rising  almost  to  a  shriek 
at  the  end  ;  and  it  was  another  boy,  also  tall, 
spare  and  wiry,  to  whom  the  warning  was 
shouted.  The  latter  turned  to  look  behind  him, 
and  for  one  brief  instant  his  whole  body  stiffened 
with  fear — his  very  hair  stood  on  end.  Nor  is 
this  a  mere  figure  of  speech  :  the  boy's  hair  did 
actually  stand  on  end  :  he  could  feel  it  "  creep  " 
against  the  crown  of  his  hat.  Iknow — for  I  was 
the  boy  ! 

That  I  had  good  reason  to  be  "  scared  stiff"  I 
think  any  other  boy  will  admit,  for,  not  thirty 


12  The  Trail   of  the    Badger 

feet  below  me,  coming  quickly  and  silently  up 
the  rocks,  his  little  gleaming  eyes  fixed  intently 
upon  me,  was  a  grim  old  cinnamon  bear,  an  ani- 
mal which,  though  less  dangerous  than  his  big 
cousin,  the  grizzly,  is  quite  dangerous  enough 
when  he  is  thoroughly  in  earnest. 

But  for  my  companion's  warning  shout  the 
bear  would  surely  have  caught  me,  and  my  story 
would  have  come  to  an  end  at  the  very  begin- 
ning of  the  first  chapter. 

It  was  certainly  an  awkAvard  situation,  about 
as  awkward,  I  should  think,  as  any  boy  ever  got 
himself  into ;  and  how  I,  Frank  Preston,  lately 
a  schoolboy  in  St.  Louis,  happened  to  find  my- 
self on  a  spur  of  Mescalero  Mountain,  in  Colo- 
rado, with  a  cinnamon  bear  charging  up  the 
rocks  within  a  few  feet  of  me,  needs  a  word  of 
explanation. 

I  will  therefore  go  back  a  few  steps  in  order 
to  give  myself  space  for  a  preliminary  run  before 
jumping  head-first  into  my  story,  and  will  tell 
not  only  how  I  came  to  be  there,  but  will  relate 
also  the  curious  incident  which  first  brought  me 
into  contact  with  my  future  friend,  Dick  Stan- 
ley ;  an  incident  which,  while  it  served  as  an  in- 
troduction, at  the  same  time  gave  me  some  idea 
of  the  resourcefulness  and  promptness  of  action 


Dick   Stanley  I  3 

with  whicli  his  very  peculiar  training  had  en- 
dowed him. 

It  was  in  the  last  week  of  October,  1877,  that  I 
was  seated  one  evening  in  my  room  in  St.  Louis, 
very  busy  preparing  my  studies  for  next  day, 
when  the  door  opened  suddenly  and  in  walked 
my  Uncle  Tom. 

When,  at  the  age  of  seven,  I  had  been  left  an 
orphan.  Uncle  Tom,  my  mother's  brother,  though 
himself  a  bachelor,  had  taken  charge  of  me, 
and  with  him  I  had  lived  ever  since.  He  and  I, 
I  am  glad  to  say,  were  the  best  of  friends — regu- 
lar chums — for,  though  twenty  years  my  senior, 
he  seemed  in  some  respects  to  be  as  young  as 
myself,  and  our  relations  were  more  like  those 
of  elder  and  younger  brother  than  of  uncle  and 
nephew. 

Uncle  Tom  was  rather  short  and  rather  fat, 
and  he  was  moreover  one  of  the  jolliest  of  men, 
being  blessed  with  a  disposition  which  prompted 
him  always  to  see  the  bright  side  of  things,  no 
matter  how  dark  and  threatening  they  might 
look.  Having  at  a  very  early  age  been  pitched 
out  into  the  world  to  ''  fend  for  himself,"  and 
having  by  square  dealing  and  hard  work  done 
remarkably  well,  he  had  imbibed  the  idea  that 
book-learning  as  a  means  of  getting  on  in  the 


14  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

world  was  somewhat  overrated  ;  an  idea  which, 
right  or  wrong — and  I  think  myself  that  Uncle 
Tom  carried  it  rather  too  far — was  to  have  a  de- 
cided effect  in  shaping  my  own  career. 

As  it  was  against  the  rule,  laid  down  by  Uncle 
Tom  himself,  for  any  one  to  disturb  me  at  my 
studies,  I  naturally  looked  up  from  my  books  to 
ascertain  the  cause  of  the  intrusion,  when,  with 
a  cigar  in  his  mouth  and  his  hands  in  his  pock- 
ets, he  came  bulging  in,  half  filling  the  little 
room. 

That  there  was  something  unusual  in  the 
wind  I  felt  sure,  and  my  guardian's  first  act 
went  far  to  confirm  my  suspicion,  for,  removing 
one  hand  from  his  pocket,  he  quietly  reached 
forward  and  with  his  finger  tilted  my  book 
shut. 

''  Put  'em  away,"  said  he.  "  You  won't  need 
them  for  a  month  or  more." 

As  the  fall  term  of  school  was  then  in  full 
swing,  this  declaration  was  a  good  deal  of  a  sur- 
prise to  me,  as  any  one  will  suppose,  and  doubt- 
less I  showed  as  much  in  my  face. 

"  I  have  a  scheme  in  my  head,  Frank,"  said 
he,  with  a  knowing  wag  of  that  member,  in  re- 
ply to  my  look  of  inquiry. 

'*  I  know  that''  I  replied,  laughing  ;  for  there 


Dick  Stanley  15 

never  was  a  moment  when  Uncle  Tom  had  not 
a  scheme  in  his  head  of  one  sort  or  another. 

"  You  spider-legged  young  reptile  !  "  cried  he, 
with  perfect  good  humor,  but  at  the  same  time 
shaking  a  threatening  finger  at  me.  "  Don't  you 
dare  to  laugh  at  my  schemes ;  especially  this 
one.  For  this  is  a  brand-new  idea,  and  a  very 
important  one — to  you.  I'm  leaving  to-morrow 
night  for  Colorado." 

"  Are  you  ?  "  I  cried,  a  good  deal  surprised  by 
this  sudden  announcement.  "  When  did  you 
decide  upon  that?" 

"  To-day.  I  got  a  letter  this  afternoon  from 
my  friend,  Sam  Warren,  the  assayer,  written 
from  Mosby — if  you  know  where  that  is." 

I  shook  my  head. 

"  I  didn't  suppose  you  did,"  remarked  Uncle 
Tom.  "  It  is  a  new  mining  camp  on  one  of  the 
spurs  of  Mescalero  Mountain  in  Colorado,  and 
in  the  opinion  of  Sam  Warren — my  old  school- 
mate, you  know — it  has  a  great  future  before  it. 
So  he  has  written  me  that  if  I  have  the  time  to 
spare  I  had  better  come  out  and  take  a  look 
at  it." 

Uncle  Tom's  business  was  that  of  a  mining 
promoter,  the  middle  man  between  the  pros- 
pector and   the  capitalist,  a  business  in  which 


1 6  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

his  ability  and  his  honorable  methods  had 
gained  for  him  an  enviable  reputation. 

"  So  you  have  decided  to  go  out,  have  you  ?  " 
said  I. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied.  "  I  leave  to-morrow  even- 
ing— and  you  are  coming  with  me." 

As  may  be  imagined,  I  opened  my  eyes  pretty 
widely  at  this  unfolding  of  the  *'  brand-new 
idea." 

'*  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Look  here,  Frank,  old  chap,"  said  he,  seat- 
ing himself  on  the  edge  of  the  table  and  becom- 
ing confidential.  "  You've  stuck  to  your  books 
very  well — if  anything,  too  well.  Now,  I've 
had  my  eye  on  you  ever  since  the  hot  weather 
last  summer,  and  it  strikes  me  you  need  a 
change — you  are  too  pale  and  altogether  too 
thin." 

Being  fat  and  "  comfortable  "  himself.  Uncle 
Tom  was  disposed  to  regard  with  pity  any  one, 
like  myself,  whose  framework  showed  through 
its  covering. 

*'  But "  I  began  ;  when  Uncle  Tom  headed 

me  off. 

"  Now  3^ou  be  quiet,"  said  he,  "  and  let  me 
finish.  I've  had  some  such  idea  brewing  in 
my  head  for  some  time ;  it  isn't  a  sudden  freak, 


Dick  Stanley  17 

as  you  imagine.  I've  considered  the  matter 
carefully,  and  I've  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
you'll  lose  nothing  by  the  move.  In  fact,  what 
you  will  lose  by  missing  a  month  or  so  of 
schooling  will  be  more  than  made  up  to  you 
by  the  eye-opener  you  will  get  in  making  this 
expedition." 

"How  so?"  I  asked. 

"  You  will  make  the  acquaintance  of  a  young 
State  just  learning  to  walk  alone — for,  as  you 
know,  it  was  only  last  year  that  Colorado  came 
into  the  Union  ;  you  will  see  a  new  mining 
camp,  and  rub  up  against  the  men,  good,  bad 
and  indiflferent,  who  go  to  make  up  the  com- 
munity of  a  frontier  town  ;  and  more  than  that, 
you  will  get  at  first  hand,  what  you  never  could 
get  by  sitting  here  and  reading  about  it,  a  cor- 
rect idea  of  the  country  traversed  by  the  ex- 
plorers— Pike,  Fremont  and  the  rest  of  them. 

"I  am  honestly  of  opinion,  Frank,"  he  went 
on,  seriously,  "  that  this  is  an  opportunity  not 
to  be  neglected.  At  the  same  time,  old  fellow, 
as  it  is  your  education  and  not  mine  that  is 
under  discussion,  I  consider  that  you  have  a 
right  to  a  voice  in  the  matter ;  so  I'll  leave  you 
to  think  it  over,  and  to-morrow  at  breakfast  you 
can  tell  me  whether  you  are  coming  or  not." 


1 8  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

With  that,  Uncle  Tom  slipped  down  from 
the  table,  walked  out  and  shut  the  door  behind 
him.  That  was  his  way  :  he  was  always  as 
sudden  as  a  clap  of  thunder. 

Anybody  will  guess  that  my  books  did  not 
receive  much  more  attention  that  evening.  For 
an  hour  I  paced  up  and  down  the  room,  con- 
sidering Uncle  Tom's  proposition.  It  was  true 
that  I  did  feel  pulled  down  by  the  effects  of  the 
hot  weather,  combined  with  a  pretty  close  appli- 
cation to  my  books,  and  I  had  no  doubt  that 
the  expedition  proposed  would  do  me  a  world 
of  good  ;  though  whether  my  education  would 
be  benefited  in  like  manner  I  was  not  so  sure  as 
Uncle  Tom  seemed  to  be. 

But  though  I  did  my  best  honestly  to  con- 
sider the  question  in  all  its  aspects,  there  can 
be  little  doubt  that  my  inclinations — whether  I 
was  aware  of  it  or  not — colored  my  judgment, 
so  that  my  final  decision  was  just  what  might 
have  been  expected  in  any  active  boy  of  sixteen. 
As  the  clock  struck  ten  I  ran  down-stairs  and 
informed  Uncle  Tom  that  I  was  going  with  him. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  go  into  all  the  details 
of  our  journey,  though  to  me,  who  had  never 
before  been  a  hundred  miles  from  home,  every- 
thing was  new  and  everything  was  interesting. 


Dick  Stanley  19 

It  is  enough  to  say  that,  leaving  the  train  at  the 
foot  of  the  mountains — for  the  railroad  then 
went  no  further — we  engaged  places  in  the  mail- 
carrier's  open  buckboard,  and  after  a  very  rough 
and  very  tiring  drive  of  a  day  and  a  half  we  at 
last  reached  our  destination  and  were  set  down 
at  the  door  of  a  house  outside  which  hung  a 
"  shingle  "  bearing  the  legend,  "  Samuel  Warren, 
Assayer  and  U.  S.  Dep.  Min.  Surveyor." 

It  will  be  remembered  that  one  of  Uncle  Tom's 
reasons  for  breaking  into  my  school  term  was 
that  I  should  rub  up  against  the  citizens  com- 
prising a  frontier  settlement.  He  could  hardly 
have  contemplated,  however,  that  I  should  come 
in  contact  with  quite  so  many  of  them  quite  so 
earl}^  in  the  day  as  I  did. 

We  had  hardly  sat  down  to  the  refreshments 
spread  before  us  by  our  host — a  big,  bearded 
man,  clad  in  a  suit  of  brown  canvas — when  we, 
in  common  with  the  rest  of  the  community, 
were  startled  by  the  sudden  shriek  of  a  woman 
in  distress.  To  rush  to  the  door  was  the  work 
of  a  moment,  when,  the  first  thing  we  caught 
sight  of  was  a  man,  clad  only  in  his  nightshirt, 
running  like  a  madman  up  the  street,  while  far 
behind  him,  and  losing  ground  at  every  step, 
ran  a  woman,  calling  out  with  all  the  breath  she 


20  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

had    to    spare — which   was   not   much — "  Stop 
him  !     Stop  him  !  " 

"  It's  Tim  Donovan  I  "  shouted  the  assay er. 
"  He's  sick  with  the  mountain-fever !  He's 
crazy!  Head  him  off!  Head  him  off!  The 
poor  chap  will  die  of  exposure  1  " 

Warren's  house  was  near  the  upper  end  of  the 
street,  and  just  as  we  three  jumped  down  the 
porch  steps,  the  demented  fugitive  passed  the 
door,  going  like  the  wind.  At  once  we  set  off 
in  pursuit,  while  behind  us  came  all  the  rest  of 
the  population  and  most  of  the  dogs,  by  this 
time  roused  to  action  by  the  cries  of  the  sick 
man's  wife. 

Nobody  knows  until  he  has  tried  it  how  hard 
it  is  to  run  up-hill  at  an  elevation  of  nine  thou- 
sand feet,  especially  to  one  unaccustomed  to 
such  altitudes.  Uncle  Tom,  who  was  not  built, 
for  such  exercise,  fell  out  in  the  first  fifty  yards, 
while,  of  the  others,  the  short-winded  barroom 
loafers — of  whom,  as  is  always  the  case  in  a  new 
camp,  there  were  more  than  enough — gave  out 
even  more  quickly,  their  habits  of  life  being  a 
fatal  handicap  in  a  foot-race.  One  by  one,  nearly 
all  the  rest  came  down  to  a  walk,  until  presently 
the  only  ones  left  with  any  run  in  them  were 
Jake  Peters  and  Oscar  Swansen,  both  timber- 


Dick  Stanley  21 

cutters  from  the  hills,  Aleck  Smith,  a  wiry 
little  teamster,  and  myself. 

As  for  me,  having  the  advantage  of  a  good 
start  over  everybody  else,  being  only  sixteen 
years  old,  and  having  a  reputation  at  school  as 
a  long-distance  runner,  it  seemed  as  though  I 
ought  to  be  able  to  catch  the  unfortunate  fugi- 
tive, who,  having  run  a  quarter  of  a  mile  already, 
should  by  this  time  be  out  of  breath. 

Indeed,  I  believe  I  should  have  caught  him  at 
the  first  dash  had  he  not  resorted  to  tactics 
which  made  me  chary  of  coming  near  him.  Not 
more  than  thirty  yards  separated  us  and  I  was 
gaining  steadily,  when  he,  barefooted  himself 
and  making  no  noise,  hearing  the  clatter  of  my 
shoes  behind  him,  suddenly  stopped,  picked  up 
a  stone  and  hurled  it  at  me.  It  would  have 
taken  me  square  in  the  chest  had  I  not  jumped 
aside ;  when,  finding  that  the  man  was  really 
dangerous,  and  knowing  very  well  that  I  should 
have  no  chance  whatever  in  a  personal  struggle 
with  him — for  he  was  a  stout  young  Irish  miner 
with  a  fore-arm  like  a  leg  of  mutton — I  con- 
tented myself  with  trotting  behind  and  keeping 
him  in  sight ;  trusting  to  the  able-bodied  men 
following  me  to  do  the  tackling  when  the  oppor- 
tunity should  arise. 


22  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

The  town  of  Mosby  consisted  of  one  steep 
street  iibout  half  a  mile  long  and  two  houses 
thick  ;  for  it  was  situated  in  a  valley,  or,  rather, 
in  a  gorge,  so  narrow  that  there  was  no  room  for 
it  to  spread  except  at  the  two  ends.  In  truth, 
there  was  no  room  for  it  to  grow  except  south- 
ward, for  at  the  upper,  or  northern,  end  the 
mountains  came  together,  forming  an  inacces- 
sible canon  through  which  rushed  the  little 
stream  of  ice-cold  water  coming  down  from 
Mescalero. 

From  the  lower  end  of  this  canon  the  stream 
fell  perpendicularly  into  a  great  hole  in  the 
rocks — a  sort  of  natural  chimney,  or  well,  about 
sixty  feet  deep.  The  down-stream  side  of  this 
**  chimney  "  was  split  from  top  to  bottom,  and 
through  the  narrow  crack,  only  four  or  five  feet 
wide,  the  water  leaped  foaming  down  in  a  series 
of  miniature  cascades.  The  only  way  of  getting 
into  this  deep  pit  was  by  taking  to  the  water, 
scrambling  up  the  steep,  step-like  bed  of  the 
stream  and  passing  through  the  crack,  when, 
once  inside,  a  man  might  defy  the  world  to  come 
and  get  him  out. 

This  was  exactly  what  Tim  Donovan  did. 
Seeing  that  he  could  follow  the  stream  no 
further,  I  was  wondering  whether  he  would  take 


Dick  Stanley  23 

to  the  mountain  on  the  right  or  the  one  on  the 
left,  when  he  suddenly  jumped  into  the  water, 
ran  up  the  smooth,  wet "  steps,"  and  disappeared 
from  sight  through  the  crevice.  In  ten  seconds, 
however,  he  showed  himself  again.  He  had 
found  in  the  driftwood  a  ragged  branch  of  a  pine 
tree  about  three  feet  long,  and  with  this  in  one 
hand  and  a  ten-pound  stone  in  the  other  he 
stood  at  bay,  regardless  of  the  icy  water  which 
poured  over  his  feet,  or  of  the  spray  from  the 
fall  behind  him,  which  in  half  a  minute  had 
wet  his  thin  single  garment  through  and 
through. 

It  was  an  impregnable  stronghold.  No  one 
could  get  in  from  the  rear,  and  the  place  could 
not  be  rushed  from  the  front — the  ascent  was 
too  steep  and  slippery  and  the  entrance  too  nar- 
row. If  Tim  were  determined  to  stay  there  and 
perish  with  cold,  it  appeared  to  me  that  nobody 
could  do  anything  to  prevent  him. 

One  by  one  the  pursuers  joined  me  before  the 
entrance,  when  Mrs.  Donovan,  who  was  among 
the  last  to  arrive,  advanced  as  near  as  she  could 
without  getting  into  the  water,  and  besought  her 
errant  husband  to  come  down. 

But  Tim  was  deaf  to  entreaty  ;  all  the  bland- 
ishments of  his  anxious  wife  were  without  effect, 


26  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

fellow  about  my  own  age,  with  reddish  hair, 
very  keen  gray  eyes  and  a  much-freckled  face, 
carrying  in  one  hand  an  old-fashioned,  muzzle- 
loading  rifle,  nearly  as  long  as  himself,  and  in 
the  other  three  grouse  which  he  appeared  to 
have  shot. 

Wondering  who  the  boy  might  be,  I  explained 
the  situation,  when  he  cried  : 

"What!  Tim  Donovan!  Why  he'll  die  if 
he's  left  in  there.  Poor  chap  I  We  must  get 
him  out." 

"  Yes,"  said  Uncle  Tom.  "  That's  just  it.  But 
how  ?  The  man  won't  be  persuaded  to  come 
out,  and  no  one  can  get  in  to  drag  him  out — so 
what's  to  be  done?  " 

The  young  fellow  stood  for  a  minute  think- 
ing, and  then,  suddenly  lifting  his  head,  he  ex- 
claimed, with  a  half  laugh  : 

"  I  know  !  I  know  what  we  can  do  !  He 
can't  be  persuaded  out  or  dragged  out,  but  he 
can  be  driven  out." 

"  How  ?  "  asked  Uncle  Tom. 

"  If  you'll  come  with  me,"  replied  the  boy, 
"  I'll  show  you  in  two  minutes." 

So  saying,  he  jumped  across  the  creek  and  set 
off  straight  up  the  almost  perpendicular  side  of 
the  mountain,  we  two  following.     Uncle  Tom, 


Dick  Stanley  27 

however,  finding  the  climb  too  steep  for  him, 
very  soon  turned  back  again,  so  we  two  boys 
went  on  alone. 

About  three  hundred  feet  up  my  companion 
stopped,  and  it  was  well  for  me  he  did,  for  I 
could  hardly  have  gone  another  step,  so  des- 
perately out  of  breath  was  I. 

"  Not  used  to  it,  are  you  ?  "  said  the  boy,  who 
himself  seemed  to  be  quite  unaffected.  '*  Well, 
we  don't  have  to  go  any  higher,  fortunately. 
Look  over  there.  Do  you  see  that  stubby  pine 
tree  growing  out  of  the  rocks  and  overhanging 
the  waterfall  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  see  it,"  I  replied.  "  And  what's  that 
big  round  thing  hanging  to  it?  " 

"  A  wasps'  nest." 

"A  wasps'  nest?" 

"  A  wasps'  nest,"  repeated  my  new  acquaint- 
ance with  peculiar  emphasis  and  with  a  twinkle 
in  his  eye. 

"  Ah  !  "  I  exclaimed,  suddenly  enlightened. 
"  I  see  your  little  game.  Good  !  You  propose 
to  knock  down  the  wasps'  nest  into  the  '  well,' 
and  then  poor  Tim  will  just  have  to  vacate." 

"That's  my  idea." 

"  Great  idea,  too.  But,  look  here  !  Are  the 
wasps  alive  at  this  time  of  year  ?  " 


28  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

"  They  are  this  year.  We've  had  such  a 
wonderfully  warm  season  that  they  are  just  as 
brisk  as  ever." 

"  Well,  but  there's  another  thing  :  how  are 
you  going  to  do  it?  You  can't  get  at  it: 
the  rocks  are  too  straight-up-and-down ;  and 
you  can't  come  near  enough  to  knock  it  ofi'  with 
a  stone.     How  are  you  going  to  do  it?  " 

The  young  fellow  smiled  and  patted  the  stock 
of  his  gun. 

"  Shoot  it  down  !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  Do  you 
think  you  can  ?  It  won't  be  any  use  plugging 
it  full  of  holes,  you  know  ;  you'll  have  to  nip 
off  the  little  twig  it  hangs  on.  Can  you  do 
that  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  can." 

"  All  right,  then,  fire  away  and  let's  see." 

I  must  confess  1  felt  doubtful.  The  boy  did 
not  look  nor  talk  like  a  braggart,  but  neverthe- 
less, to  cut  with  a  bullet  the  slim  little  branch, 
no  bigger  than  a  lead-pencil,  upon  which  the 
nest  hung  suspended  looked  to  me  like  a  prett}' 
ticklish  shot. 

My  companion,  however,  seemed  confident. 
Cocking  his  gun,  he  kneeled  down,  and  using 
a  big  rock  as  a  rest  he  took  careful  aim  and 
fired. 


Dick  Stanley  29 

It  was  a  perfect  shot.  The  big  ball  of  gray 
"  paper  "  dropped  like  a  plumb,  struck  the  rim 
of  the  "  well,"  burst  open,  and  emptied  upon 
the  head  of  the  unfortunate  Tim  about  a  bucket- 
ful of  venomous  little  yellow-jackets,  each  and 
every  one  of  them  quivering  with  rage,  and 
each  and  every  one  bent  on  taking  vengeance 
on  somebody. 

The  people  below  were  still  debating  how  to 
get  the  sick  man  out  of  his  fortress,  when  the 
sound  of  the  rifle-shot  caused  them  all  to  look 
up ;  but  only  for  an  instant,  for  the  echoes  had 
not  yet  died  away,  when,  with  a  startling  yell, 
out  came  Tim,  frantically  waving  his  club 
above  his  head,  seemingly  more  crazy  than  ever. 
Supposing  that  he  was  making  a  dash  for 
liberty,  half  a  dozen  of  his  particular  friends 
flung  themselves  upon  him,  and  down  they  all 
went  in  a  heap  together. 

But  this  arrangement  was  of  the  briefest.  In 
another  moment,  with  shrieks  and  yells  and 
whirling  arms,  the  whole  population  went 
charging  down  the  street.  Uncle  Tom  in  the 
lead,  running — breath  or  no  breath — as  he  had 
never  run  before. 

Never  was  there  a  more  complete  victory  : 
besiegers   and   besieged   flying   in   one   general 


30  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

rout  before  the  assaults  of  the  new  enemy.  And 
never  did  I  laugh  so  extravagantly  as  I  did 
then,  to  see  the  enraged  yellow-jackets  "  take  it 
out "  on  an  unoffending  community,  while  the 
real  culprits  were  all  the  time  sitting  safely 
perched  on  the  mountainside  looking  down  on 
the  rumpus. 

"  Well,  we  got  him  out  all  right,"  remarked 
my  companion,  as  he  calmly  reloaded  his  rifle. 
"  I  thought  we  could.  You're  a  newcomer, 
aren't  you  ?  My  name's  Dick  Stanley  ;  I  live 
up-stream,  just  at  the  head  of  the  canon.  Are 
you  expecting  to  make  a  long  stay  ?  " 

"Two  or  three  weeks,  I  think,"  I  replied. 
"  My  uncle,  Mr.  Tom  Allen,  is  here  to  inspect 
the  mines,  and  he  brought  me  with  him.  We 
come  from  St.  Louis.  My  name's  Frank  Pres- 
ton.    We're  staying  at  Mr.  Warren's  house." 

"  Well,  come  up  to  our  house  some  day.  It  is 
in  a  little  clearing  just  at  the  head  of  the  canon 
— you  can't  miss  it — and  we'll  go  off  for  a  day's 
grouse-shooting  up  into  the  mountains  if  you 
like." 

"  All  right,  I  will.  That  would  just  suit  me. 
To-morrow?" 

"  Yes,  come  up  to-morrow,  if  you  like.  I'll  be 
on  the  lookout  for  you.     I  suppose  you  are  going 


Dick  Stanley  31 

home  now,"  he  continued,  as  we  rose  to  our  feet. 
"  If  I  were  you,  I'd  keep  up  here  on  the  side  of 
the  mountain — the  street  will  be  full  of  yellow- 
jackets — and  then,  when  you  come  opposite  the 
assayer's  house,  make  a  bolt  for  his  back  door, 
or  some  of  them  may  get  you  yet." 

"  That's  a  good  idea.     I'll  do  it.     Well,  good- 
bye.    I'll  come  up  to-morrow  then,  if  I  can." 


CHAPTER  II 

Sheep  and  Cinnamon 

'"T^HAT  was  the  funniest  thing  I  ever  saw," 
-■-  exclaimed  Uncle  Tom,  laughing  in  spite 
of  himself,  while  at  the  same  time,  with  a  com- 
ically rueful  twist  of  his  countenance,  he  rubbed 
the  back  of  his  neck  where  one  of  the  wasps  had 
"  got  "  him.  "  The  way  poor  Tim  bolted  out  of 
his  stronghold  after  defying  the  whole  popula- 
tion to  come  and  get  him  out,  was  the  very  fun- 
niest thing  I  ever  did  see.  That  was  a  smart 
trick  of  that  young  rascal ;  though  I  wish  he 
had  given  me  notice  beforehand  of  what  he  in- 
tended to  do.  I'd  have  started  to  run  a  good 
five  minutes  earlier  if  I'd  known  what  was  com- 
ing.    Who  is  the  boy,  Warren  ?  " 

"  Well,  that  is  not  easy  to  say,"  replied  our  host, 
"  for,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  he  does  not  know  him- 
self. His  history,  what  there  is  of  it,  is  a  pecul- 
iar one.  He  lives  up  here  at  the  head  of  the 
cailon  with  an  old  German  named  Bergen — com- 
monly known  as  the  Professor — and  his  Mexican 
servant,  a  man  of  forty  whom  the  professor 
32 


Sheep  and   Cinnamon  33 

brought  up  with  him  from  Albuquerque,  I  be- 
lieve. If  Frank's  object  in  coming  liere  was  to 
rub  up  against  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men, 
he  could  hardly  have  chosen  a  better  place. 
Certainly  he  cannot  expect  to  find  a  more  re- 
markable character  than  the  professor. 

"  The  old  fellow  is  regarded  by  the  people  here 
as  a  harmless  lunatic — which,  in  a  community 
like  this,  where  muscle  is  at  a  premium  and 
scientific  attainments  at  a  discount,  is  not  to  be 
wondered  at — for  it  is  incomprehensible  to  them 
that  any  man  in  his  right  mind  should  spend 
his  life  as  the  professor  spends  his. 

"  The  old  gentleman  is  an  enthusiastic  natural- 
ist. He  is  making  a  collection  of  the  butterflies, 
beetles  and  such  things,  of  the  Rocky  Mountain 
region,  and  with  true  German  thoroughness  he 
has  spent  years  in  the  pursuit.  Choosing  some 
promising  spot,  he  builds  a  log  cabin,  and  there 
he  stays  one  year — or  two  if  necessary — until 
•that  district  is  *  fished  out,'  as  you  may  say,  when 
he  packs  up  and  moves  somewhere  else,  to  do  the 
same  thing  over  again." 

"  Well,  that  is  certainly  a  queer  character  to 
come  across,"  was  Uncle  Tom's  comment.  "  But 
how  about  the  boy,  Sam  ?  How  does  he  happen 
to  be  in  such  company?" 


34  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

"  Why,  about  twelve  or  thirteen  years  ago,  old 
Bergen  was  *  doing '  the  country  somewhere 
northwest  of  Santa  Fe,  when  he  made  a  very 
strange  discovery.  It  was  a  bad  piece  of  country 
for  snowslides,  which  were  frequent  and  danger- 
ous in  the  spring,  and  one  day,  being  anxious  to 
get  to  a  particular  point  quickly,  the  professor 
was  crossing  the  tail  of  a  new  slide — a  risky 
thing  to  do — as  being  the  shortest  cut,  when  his 
attention  was  attracted  by  some  strange  object 
lodged  half  way  up  the  great  bank  of  snow. 
Climbing  up  to  it,  he  found  to  his  astonishment 
that  the  strange  object  was  a  wagon-bed,  while, 
to  his  infinitely  greater  astonishment,  inside  it 
on  a  mattress,  fast  asleep,  was  a  three-year-old 
boy — young  Dick  !  " 

"  That  was  an  astonisher,  sure  enough  I  "  ex- 
claimed I,  who  had  been  an  eager  listener. 
"  And  was  that  all  the  professor  found  ?  " 

"  That  was  all.  The  running-gear  of  the 
wagon  had  vanished ;  the  horses  had  van- 
ished ;  and  the  boy's  parents  or  guardians  had 
vanished — all  buried,  undoubtedly,  under  the 
snow." 

"  And  what  did  the  professor  do  ?  " 

"  The  only  thing  he  could  do  :  took  the  boy 
with    him — and    a    fortunate    thing   it  was    for 


Sheep  and  Cinnamon  35 

young  Dick  that  the  old  gentleman  happened 
to  find  him.  But  though  he  inquired  of  every- 
body he  came  across — they  were  not  many,  for 
white  folks  were  scarce  in  those  parts  then — the 
professor  could  learn  nothing  of  the  party  ;  so, 
not  knowing  what  else  to  do,  he  just  carried  off 
the  youngster  with  him,  and  with  him  Dick  has 
been  ever  since." 

"That's  a  queer  history,  sure  enough,"  re- 
marked Uncle  Tom.  "  And  was  there  nothing 
at  all  by  which  to  identify  the  boy  ?  " 

"  Just  one  thing.  I  forgot  to  say  that  in  the 
wagon-bed  was  a  single  volume  of  Shakespeare 
— one  of  a  set :  volume  two — on  the  fly-leaf  of 
which  was  written  the  name,  *  Richard  Living- 
stone Stanley,  from  Anna,'  and  as  the  boy  was 
old  enough  to  tell  his  own  name — Dick  Stanley 
— the  professor  concluded  that  the  owner  of  the 
book  was  his  father.  Moreover,  as  the  boy 
made  no  mention  of  his  mother,  though  he  now 
and  then  spoke  of  his  '  Daddy  '  and  his  '  Uncle 
David,'  the  old  gentleman  formed  the  theory 
that  the  mother  was  dead  and  that  the  father 
and  uncle,  bringing  the  boy  with  them,  had 
come  west  to  seek  their  fortunes,  and  being  very 
likely  tenderfeet,  unacquainted  with  the  dan- 
gerous   nature   of  those   great   snow-masses   in 


36  The  Trail   of  the   Badger 

spring  time,  they  had  been  caught  in  a  slide  and 
killed." 

"  Poor  little  chap,"  said  Uncle  Tom.  "  And 
he  has  been  wandering  about  with  the  old 
gentleman  ever  since,  has  he?  He  must  be  a 
sort  of  Wild  Man  of  the  West  in  miniature." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  The  professor  is  a  man  of 
learning,  and  he  has  not  neglected  his  duty. 
Dick  has  a  highly  respectable  education,  in- 
cluding some  items  rather  out  of  the  common 
for  a  boy  :  he  speaks  German  and  Spanish  ;  he 
has  a  pretty  intimate  knowledge  of  the  wild 
animals  of  the  Rocky  Mountains ;  and  he  is 
one  of  the  best  woodsmen  and  quite  the  best 
shot  of  anybody  in  these  immediate  parts." 

"  Well,  they  are  an  odd  pair,  certainly.  I 
should  like  to  go  up  and  see  the  professor — that 
is,  if  he  ever  receives  visitors." 

"  Oh,  yes.  He's  a  sociable  old  fellow.  He 
and  I  are  very  good  friends.  I'll  take  you  up 
there  and  introduce  you  some  day.  He  is  well 
worth  knowing.  If  there  is  any  information 
you  desire  concerning  the  Rocky  Mountain 
country  from  here  southward  to  the  border, 
Herr  Bergen  can  give  it  you.  You  are  to  be 
congratulated,  Frank,  on  making  Dick's  ac- 
quaintance   so   early :    he  will    be   a  fine  com- 


Sheep  and   Cinnamon  37 

pan  ion  for  you  while  you  stay  here.  You  pro- 
pose to  go  grouse-shooting  to-morrow,  do  you  ? 
Well,  you  can  take  my  shotgun — it  hangs  up 
there  on  the  wall — and  make  a  day  of  it ;  for 
your  uncle  and  1  are  proposing  to  ride  up  to 
inspect  a  mine  on  Cape  Horn,  which  will  take 
us  pretty  well  all  afternoon." 

I  thanked  our  host  for  his  offer,  and  next 
morning,  gun  in  hand,  I  set  off  immediately 
after  breakfast  for  Dick's  dwelling. 

Passing  the  "  well  "  where  Tim  Donovan  had 
taken  refuge  the  day  before,  I  ascended  by  a 
clearly-marked  trail  to  the  edge  of  the  canon, 
and  following  along  it  through  the  woods  for 
about  a  mile,  I  presently  came  in  sight  of  a 
little  clearing,  in  which  stood  a  neat  log  cabin 
of  two  or  three  rooms.  Outside  was  a  Mexican, 
chopping  wood,  while  in  the  doorway  stood 
Dick,  evidently  looking  out  for  me,  for,  the 
moment  I  appeared,  he  ran  forward  to  meet 
me. 

"  How  are  you?  "  he  cried.  "  Glad  you  came 
early  :  I  have  a  new  plan  for  the  day,  if  it  suits 
you.  I've  been  spying  around  with  a  field-glass 
and  I've  just  seen  a  band  of  sheep  up  on  that 
big  middle  spur  of  Mescalero  ;  they  are  work- 
ing   their  way  up    from    their    feeding-ground, 


38  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

and  I  propose  that  we  go  after  them  instead  of 
hunting  grouse.     What  do  you  say  ?  " 

"  All  right ;  that  will  suit  me." 

"  Come  on,  then.  Just  come  into  the  house 
for  a  minute  first  and  see  the  professor,  and 
then  we'll  dig  out  at  once." 

From  the  fact  that  Mr.  Warren  had  so  fre- 
quently spoken  of  the  professor  as  "  the  old 
gentleman,"  I  was  prepared  to  see  a  bent  old 
man,  with  a  white  beard  and  big  round  spec- 
tacles— the  typical  "  German  professor,"  of  my 
imagination.  I  was  a  good  deal  surprised,  then, 
to  find  a  small,  active  man  of  sixty,  perhaps,  a 
little  gray,  certainly,  but  with  a  clear  blue  eye 
and  a  wide-awake  manner  I  was  far  from  antici- 
pating. He  was  in  the  inner  room  when  I 
entered — evidently  the  sanctum  where  he  pre- 
pared and  stored  his  specimens — but  the  moment 
he  heard  our  steps  he  came  briskly  out,  and,  on 
Dick's  introducing  me,  shook  hands  with  me 
very  heartily. 

''And  how's  poor  Tim  this  morning?"  he 
asked,  as  soon  as  the  formalities,  if  they  can  be 
called  so,  were  over. 

"He  is  all  right,  sir,"  I  replied.  '*  I  went 
down  there  before  breakfast  this  morning  at  Mr. 
Warren's  request  to  inquire.     In  fact,  Tim  was 


Sheep  and   Cinnamon  39 

so  much  better  apparently  that  Mrs.  Donovan 
declares  that  if  he  ever  gets  the  fever  again  she 
intends  to  apply  iced  water  to  his  feet  and  wasp- 
stings  to  the  rest  of  his  anatomy,  as  being  a  sure 
cure.  She  is  immensely  grateful  to  Dick  for 
having  discovered  and  applied  a  remedy  that 
has  worked  so  well." 

"  Then  if  Tim  is  wise,"  remarked  the  profes- 
sor, laughing,  "  he  won't  get  the  fever  again,  for 
I  should  think  the  cure  would  be  worse  than 
the  disease.  But  you  want  to  be  off,  don't  you? 
Do  you  understand  the  working  of  a  Winchester 
repeater?  Well,"  as  I  shook  my  head,  "  then 
you  had  better  take  the  Sharp's  and  Dick  the 
Winchester.  And,  Dick,  you'd  better  have  an 
eye  on  the  weather.  Romero  says  there  is  a 
change  coming,  and  he  is  generally  pretty  re- 
liable. So,  now,  off  you  go ;  and  good  luck  to 
you." 

Leaving  the  cabin,  we  went  straight  on  up  the 
narrow  valley  for  about  three  miles — the  pine- 
clad  mountains  rising  half  a  mile  high  on  either 
side  of  us — going  as  quickly  as  we  could,  or,  to 
be  more  exact,  going  as  quickly  as  I  could.  For 
the  elevation,  beginning  at  nine  thousand  feet, 
increased,  of  course,  at  every  step,  and  I,  being 
unused  to  such  altitudes,  found  myself  much 


40  The  Trail   of  the   Badger 

distressed  for  breath — a  fact  which  was  rather 
a  surprise  to  me,  considering  that  in  our  track- 
meets  at  school  the  mile  run  was  my  strong 
point.  I  did  not  understand  then  that  to  get 
enough  oxygen  out  of  that  thin  mountain  air  it 
was  necessary  to  take  two  breaths  where  one 
would  suffice  at  sea-level. 

We  had  ascended  about  a  thousand  feet,  I 
think,  when,  at  the  base  of  the  bare  ridge  for 
which  we  had  been  making,  we  slackened  our 
pace,  and  my  companion,  who  knew  the  coun- 
try, taking  the  lead,  we  went  scrambling  up  over 
the  rocks  and  snow  for  an  hour  or  more. 

The  quantity  of  snow  we  found  up  there  was 
a  surprise  to  me,  for,  from  below  the  amount 
seemed  trifling.  There  had  been  a  heavy  fall 
up  in  the  range  a  month  before,  and  this  snow, 
drifting  into  the  gullies,  had  settled  into  com- 
pact masses,  the  surface  of  which,  on  this,  the 
southern  face  of  the  mountain,  being  every  day 
slightly  softened  by  the  heat  of  the  sun,  and 
every  night  frozen  solid  again,  made  the  footing 
exceedingly  treacherous.  Whenever,  therefore, 
we  found  it  necessary  to  cross  one  of  these  steep- 
tilted  snow-beds  we  did  so  with  the  greatest 
caution. 

We  had  been  climbing,  as   I  have  said,   for 


Sheep  and   Cinnamon  41 

more  than  an  hour,  and  were  nearing  the  top  of 
the  ridge,  when  Dick  stopped  and  silently  beck- 
oned to  me  to  come  up  to  where  he  lay,  crouch- 
ing under  shelter  of  a  little  ledge. 

"  Smell  anything  ?  "  he  whispered. 

I  gave  a  sniff  and  raised  my  eyebrows  inquir- 
ingly. 

"Sheep?"  said  I,  softly. 

My  companion  nodded. 

*'  They  must  be  somewhere  close  by,"  said  he, 
in  a  voice  hardly  audible.  "  Go  very  carefully 
and  keep  your  eyes  wide  open.  If  you  see  any- 
thing, stop  instantly." 

We  were  lying  side  by  side  upon  the  rocks, 
Dick  considerately  waiting  a  moment  while  I 
got  my  breath  again,  and  were  just  about  to 
crawl  forward,  when  there  came  the  sound  of  a 
sudden  rush  of  hoofs  and  a  clatter  of  stones  from 
some  invisible  point  ahead  of  us,  and  then  dead 
silence  again. 

"  They've  winded  us  and  gone  off,"  whispered 
Dick.  But  the  next  moment  he  added  eagerly, 
"  There  they  are  !  Look  !  There  they  are  !  Up 
there  !     See  ?     IMy  !     What  a  chance  !  " 

Immediately  on  our  left  was  a  deep  gorge,  so 
narrow  and  precipitous  that  we  could  not  see  the 
bottom  of  it  from  where  we  lay.     The  sheep. 


42  The  Trail   of  the   Badger 

having  seemingly  got  wind  of  us,  with  that 
agility  which  is  always  so  astonishing  in  such 
heavy  animals,  had  rushed  down  one  side  of  the 
precipitous  gorge  and  up  the  other,  and  now, 
there  they  were,  all  standing  in  a  row — eleven 
of  them — on  the  opposite  summit,  looking  down, 
not  at  us,  but  at  something  immediately  below 
them. 

"  What  do  you  suppose  it  is,  Dick  ?  "  I  whis- 
pered. 

"  Don't  know,"  my  companion  replied. 
"  Mountain-lion,  perhaps  :  they  are  very  partial 
to  mutton.  Anyhow,"  he  continued,  "  if  we 
want  to  get  a  shot  we  must  shoot  from  here  :  we 
can't  move  without  the  sheep  seeing  us,  and 
they'd  be  off  like  a  flash  if  they  did.  You  take 
a  shot,  Frank.  Take  the  nearest  one.  Sight  for 
two  hundred  yards." 

"  No,"  I  replied.  *'  You  shoot.  I  shall  miss  : 
I'm  too  unsteady  for  want  of  breath." 

"  All  right." 

Raising  himself  a  fraction  of  an  inch  at  a  time 
until  he  had  come  to  a  kneeling  position,  Dick 
pushed  his  rifle-barrel  through  a  crevice  in  the 
rocks,  took  aim  and  fired.  The  nearest  sheep,  a 
fine  fellow  with  a  handsome  pair  of  horns, 
pitched  forward,  fell  headlong  from  the  ledge 


Sheep  and   Cinnamon  43 

upon  wliicli  he  had  been  standing  and  vanished 
from  our  sight  among  the  broken  rocks  below  ; 
while  the  others  turned  tail  and  fled  up  the 
mountain,  disappearing  also  in  a  minute  or  less. 

"  Come  on !  "  cried  Dick,  springing  to  his 
feet.  "  Let's  go  across  and  get  him.  Round 
this  way.  Don't  trust  to  that  slope  of  ice  :  you 
may  slip  and  break  you  neck." 

"  But  the  mountain-lion,  Dick,"  I  protested. 
"  Suppose  there's  a  mountain-lion  down  there." 

"  Oh,  never  mind  him  !  "  Dick  exclaimed. 
"  If  there  was  one,  he's  gone  by  this  time.  And 
even  if  he  should  be  there  yet,  he'd  skip  the 
moment  he  saw  us.  We  needn't  mind  him. 
Come  on  !  " 

Awa}^  we  went,  therefore,  Dick  in  the  lead, 
and  scrambling  quickly  though  carefully  down 
the  rocky  wall,  we  made  our  way  up  the  bed  of 
the  ravine  until  we  found  ourselves  opposite  the 
ledge  upon  which  the  sheep  had  been  standing. 
Here  we  discovered  that  the  wall  of  the  gorge 
was  split  from  top  to  bottom  by  a  narrow  cleft 
— previously  invisible  to  us — filled  with  hard 
snow,  and  whether  the  sheep  had  been  standing 
on  the  right  side  or  the  left  of  this  crevice,  and 
therefore  on  which  side  the  big  ram  had  fallen, 
we  could  not  tell  ;  for  the  wall  of  the  gorge,  be- 


44  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

sides  being  exceedingly  rough,  was  littered  with 
great  masses  of  rock  against  any  of  which  the 
body  of  the  sheep  might  have  lodged. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,  Frank,"  said  my  com- 
panion. "  It  might  take  us  an  hour  or  two  to 
search  all  the  cracks  and  crannies  here.  The 
best  plan  will  be  to  climb  straight  up  to  the 
ledge  where  the  sheep  stood  and  look  down. 
Then,  if  he  is  lodged  against  the  upper  side  of 
any  of  these  rocks,  we  shall  be  able  to  see  him. 
But  as  we  can't  tell  whether  he  was  standing  on 
the  right  or  the  left  of  this  crevice,  suppose  3'ou 
climb  up  one  side  while  I  go  up  the  other." 

"  All  right,"  said  I.  "  You  take  the  one  on 
the  left  and  I'll  go  up  on  this  side." 

It  was  a  laborious  climb  for  both  of  us — and 
how  those  sheep  got  up  there  so  quickly  is  a 
wonder  to  me  still — but  as  my  side  of  the  crevice, 
happened  to  be  easier  of  ascent  than  Dick's  I 
got  so  far  ahead  of  him  that  I  presently  found 
myself  about  fifty  yards  in  the  lead. 

At  this  point,  however,  I  met  with  an  ob- 
struction which  at  first  seemed  likel}'  to  stop  me 
altogether.  The  fallen  rocks  were  so  big,  and 
piled  so  high,  that  I  could  not  get  over  them, 
and  for  a  moment  I  thought  I  should  be  forced 
to   go   back    and  try   another   passage.     Before 


Sheep  and   Cinnamon  45 

resorting  to  this  measure,  though,  I  thought  I 
would  attempt  to  get  round  the  barrier  by  taking 
to  the  snow-bank,  supporting  myself  by  holding 
on  to  the  rocks.  To  do  this  I  should  need  the 
use  of  both  my  hands,  so,  as  my  rifle  had  no 
strap  by  which  to  hang  it  over  my  shoulder,  I 
took  out  my  handkerchief,  tied  one  end  to  the 
trigger-guard,  took  the  other  end  in  my  teeth, 
and  slinging  the  weapon  behind  me,  I  seized 
the  rock  with  both  hands  and  set  one  foot  on  the 
snow. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  Dick,  down  be- 
low me  on  the  other  side  of  the  crevice,  while 
in  the  act  of  crawling  up  over  a  big  rock,  caught 
a  glimpse  of  something  moving  over  on  my 
side,  and  the  next  instant,  out  from  between 
two  great  fragments  of  granite  rushed  a  cinna- 
mon bear  and  went  charging  up  the  slope 
after  me. 

The  bear — as  w^e  discovered  afterward — had 
found  our  sheep,  and  was  agreeably  engaged  in 
tearing  it  to  pieces,  when  he  caught  a  whifF  of 
me.  He  was  an  old  bear,  and  had  very  likely 
been  chased  and  shot  at  more  than  once  in  the 
past  few  years — since  the  white  men  had  begun 
to  invade  his  domain — and  having  conceived  a 
strong    antipathy  for   those   interfering   bipeds 


46  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

which  walked  on  their  hind  legs  and  carried 
"  thunder-sticks  "  in  their  fore  paws,  he  decided 
instantly  that,  before  finishing  his  dinner,  he 
would  just  dash  out  and  finish  me. 

And  very  near  he  came  to  doing  it.  It  was 
only  Dick's  quick  sight  and  his  equally  quick 
shout  that  saved  me. 

My  companion's  warning  cry  to  jump  could 
have  but  one  meaning :  there  was  nowhere  to 
jump  except  out  upon  the  snow-bank  ;  and  re- 
covering from  my  first  momentary  panic,  I  let 
go  my  rifle  and  sprang  out  from  the  rocks. 

My  hope  was  that  I  should  be  able  to  keep 
my  footing  long  enough  to  scramble  across  to 
the  rocks  on  the  other  side ;  but  in  this  I  was 
disappointed.  The  snow-bed  lay  at  an  angle  as 
steep  as  a  church  roof,  and  while  its  surface  was 
slightly  softened  by  the  sun,  just  beneath  it  was 
as  hard  and  as  slippery  as  glass.  Consequently, 
the  moment  my  feet  struck  it  they  slipped  from 
under  me,  down  I  went  on  my  face,  and  in 
spite  of  all  my  frantic  clawing  and  scratching 
I  began  to  slide  briskly  and  steadily  down-hill. 

The  bear — most  fortunately  for  me — seemed 
to  be  less  cunning  than  most  of  his  fellows. 
Had  he  paused  for  a  moment  to  reason  it  out, 
he  would  have  seen  that  by  waiting  five  seconds 


Sheep  and   Cinnamon  47 

he  might  leap  upon  my  back  as  I  went  by. 
Luckily,  however,  he  did  not  reason  it  out,  but 
the  instant  he  saw  me  jump  he  jumped  too,  and 
he,  too,  began  sliding  down  the  icy  slope  ahead 
of  me ;  for  being,  as  I  said,  an  old  bear,  his 
blunted  claws  could  get  no  hold. 

It  was  an  odd  situation,  and  **  to  a  man  up  a 
tree,"  as  the  saying  is,  it  might  have  been  en- 
tertaining. Here  was  the  pursuer  retreating 
backward  from  the  pursued,  while  the  pursued, 
albeit  with  extreme  reluctance,  was  pursuing 
the  pursuer — also  backward. 

It  was  like  a  nightmare — and  a  real,  live, 
untamed  broncho  of  a  nightmare  at  that — but 
luckily  it  did  not  last  long.  Finding  that  no 
efforts  of  mine  would  arrest  my  downward 
progress,  and  knowing  that  the  bear,  reaching 
the  bottom  first,  need  only  stand  there  with 
his  mouth  wide  open  and  wait  for  me  to  fall 
into  it,  I  whirled  myself  over  and  over  side- 
ways, until  presently  my  hand  struck  the 
rocks,  my  finger-tips  caught  upon  a  little  pro- 
jection, and  there  I  hung  on  for  dear  life,  not 
daring  to  move  a  muscle  for  fear  my  hold 
should  slip. 

But  from  this  uncomfortable  predicament  I 
was  promptly  relieved.     I  had  not  hung  there 


48  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

five  seconds  ere  the  sharp  report  of  a  rifle  rang 
out,  and  then  another,  and  next  came  Dick's 
voice  hailing  me : 

"  All  right,  Frank !  I've  got  him !  Hold 
on  :     I'm  coming  up  !  " 

Half  a  minute  later,  as  I  lay  there  face  down- 
ward on  the  ice,  I  heard  footsteps  just  above  me, 
a  firm  hand  grasped  my  wrist,  and  a  cheerful 
voice  said  : 

"  Come  on  up,  old  chap.     I  can  steady  you." 
"  But  the  bear,  Dick  !     The  bear  !  "  I  cried, 
as  I  rose  to  my  knees. 

*•  Dead  as  a  door-nail,"  he  replied,  calmly. 
"  Look." 

I  glanced  over  my  shoulder  down  the  slope. 
There,  on  his  back  among  the  rocks,  lay  the 
cinnamon,  his  great  arms  spread  out  and  his 
head  hanging  over,  motionless.  As  the  snarl- 
ing beast  had  slid  past  him,  not  ten  feet  away, 
Dick,  with  his  Winchester  repeater,  had  shot 
him  once  through  the  heart  and  once  in  the 
base  of  the  skull,  so  that  the  bear  was  stone 
dead  ere  he  fell  from  the  little  two-foot  ice-cliff 
at  the  bottom  of  the  slope. 

As  for  myself,  I  had  had  such  a  scare  and 
was  so  completely  exhausted  by  my  vehement 
struggles    during   the   past  couple  of    minutes. 


Sheep  and  Cinnamon  49 

that  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  I  lay  on  the  rocks 
panting  and  gasping  ere  I  could  get  my  lungs 
and  my  muscles  back  into  working  order  again. 

As  soon  as  I  could  do  so,  however,  I  sat  up, 
and  holding  out  my  hand  to  my  companion,  I 
said  : 

''  Thanks,  old  chap.  I'm  mighty  glad  you 
were  on  hand,  or,  I'm  afraid,  it  would  have 
been  all  up  with  me." 

"  It  was  a  pretty  close  shave,"  replied  Dick ; 
*'  rather  too  close  for  comfort.  He  meant  mis- 
chief, sure  enough.  Well,  he's  out  of  mischief 
now,  all  right.  Let's  go  down  and  look  at 
him." 

"  I  suppose,"  said  I,  "  it  was  the  bear  that  the 
sheep  were  looking  down  at  when  they  stood  up 
there  on  the  ledge  all  in  a  row." 

"  Yes,  that  was  it.  If  I'd  known  it  was  a  bear 
they  were  staring  at  I'd  have  left  them 
alone.  A  mountain-lion  I'm  not  afraid  of: 
he'll  run  ninety-nine  times  out  of  a  hun- 
dred. But  a  cinnamon  bear  is  quite  another 
thing :  the  less  you  have  to  do  with  them,  the 
better." 

"  Well,  as  far  as  I'm  concerned,"  said  I,  "  the 
less  I  have  to  do  with  them,  the  better  it  will 
suit  me.     If  this  fellow  is  a  sample  of  his  tribe 


50  The  Trail  of  the   Badger 

I'm  very  willing  to  forego  their  further  ac- 
quaintance :  ni}'  first  interview  came  too  un- 
pleasantly near  to  being  my  last.  Come  on  ; 
let's  go  down." 


CHAPTER  III 

The  Mescalero  Valley 

IT  had  been  our  intention  to  take  off  the  bear's 
hide  and  carry  it  home  with  us,  but  we  found 
that  he  was  such  a  shabby  old  specimen  that  the 
skin  was  not  worth  the  carriage,  so,  after  cutting 
out  his  claws  as  trophies,  we  went  on  to  inspect 
our  sheep.  Here  again  we  found  that  *'  the  game 
was  not  worth  the  candle,"  as  the  saying  is,  for 
the  bear  had  torn  the  carcass  so  badly  as  to  ren- 
der it  useless,  while  the  horns,  which  at  a  dis- 
tance and  seen  against  the  sky-line,  had  looked 
so  imposing,  proved  to  be  too  much  chipped  and 
broken  to  be  any  good. 

My  rifle  we  found  lying  beside  the  bear,  it  also 
having  slid  down  the  ice-slope  when  I  dropped  it. 

"Well,  Frank,"  remarked  my  companion, 
"  our  hunt  so  far  doesn't  seem  to  have  had  much 
result — unless  you  count  the  experience  as  some- 
thing." 

"  Which  I  most  decidedly  do,"  I  interjected. 

"  You  are  right  enough  there,"  replied  Dick  ; 
"  there's  no  gainsaying  that.  Well,  what  I  was 
SI 


52  The  Trail  of  the   Badger 

going  to  say  was  that  the  day  is  early  yet,  and 
if  you  like  there  is  still  time  for  us  to  go  off  and 
have  a  try  for  a  deer.  I  should  like  to  take 
home  something  to  show  for  our  day's  work." 

"  Very  well,"  said  I.  "  Which  wa}'  should  we 
take?  There  are  no  deer  up  here  among  the 
rocks,  I  suppose." 

"  Why,  I  propose  that  we  go  up  over  this  ridge 
here  and  try  the  country  to  the  southwest.  I've 
never  been  down  there  mj^self,  having  always  up 
to  the  present  hunted  to  the  north  and  east  of 
camp  ;  but  Tve  often  thought  of  trying  it :  it  is 
a  likely-looking  country,  quite  different  from 
that  on  the  Mosby  side  of  the  divide  :  high  mesa 
land  cut  up  b}^  deep  canons.  W^hat  do  you 
say?" 

"  Anything  you  like,"  I  answered.  "  It  is  all 
new  to  me,  and  one  direction  is  as  good  as 
another." 

"  Very  well,  then,  let  us  get  up  over  the  ridge 
at  once  and  make  a  start." 

Having  discovered  a  place  easier  of  ascent  than 
those  by  which  we  had  first  tried  to  climb  up, 
we  soon  found  ourselves  on  top  of  the  ridge, 
whence  we  could  look  out  over  the  country  we 
were  intending  to  explore. 

It  was  plain  at  a  glance  that  the  two  sides  of 


The  Mescalero  Valley  53 

the  divide  were  very  different.  Behind  us,  to 
the  north,  rose  Mescalero  Mountain,  bare,  rugged 
and  seamed  with  strips  of  snow.  From  this 
mountain,  as  from  a  center,  there  radiated  in  all 
directions  great  spurs,  like  fingers  spread  out,  on 
one  of  which  we  were  then  standing.  Looking 
southward,  we  could  see  that  our  spur  continued 
for  many  miles  in  the  form  of  a  chain  of  round- 
topped  mountains,  well  covered  with  timber,  the 
elevation  of  which  diminished  pretty  regularly 
the  farther  they  receded  from  the  parent  stem. 
On  the  left  hand  side  of  this  chain — the  eastern, 
or  Mosby  side — the  country  was  very  rough  and 
broken  :  from  where  we  stood  we  could  see  noth- 
ing but  the  tops  of  mountains,  some  sharp  and 
rugged,  some  round  and  tree-covered,  seemingly 
massed  together  without  order  or  regularity. 
But  to  the  south  and  southwest  it  was  very  dif- 
ferent. Here  the  land  lying  embraced  between 
two  of  the  spurs  was  spread  out  like  a  great  fan- 
shaped  park,  which,  though  it  sloped  away  pretty 
sharply,  was  fairly  smooth,  except  where  several 
dark  lines  indicated  the  presence  of  canons  of 
unknown  depth.  The  whole  stretch,  as  far  as 
we  could  distinguish,  was  prett}''  well  covered 
with  timber,  though  occasional  open  spaces 
showed   here  and   there,  some  of  two  or  three 


54  The  Trail  of  the   Badger 

acres  and  some  of  two  or  three  square  miles  in 
extent. 

"Just  the  country  for  black-tail,"  said  Dick, 
"especially  at  this  time  of  year — the  beginning 
of  winter.  For,  you  see,  it  lies  very  much  lower 
on  the  average  than  the  Mosby  side,  and  the 
snow  consequently  will  not  come  so  early  nor 
stay  so  late.  It  ought  to  be  a  great  hunting- 
ground." 

"It  is  a  curious  thing  to  find  an  open  stretch 
like  that  in  the  midst  of  the  mountains,"  said 
I.     "  What  is  it  called  ?  " 

"  The  Mescalero  valley.  The  professor  says  it 
was  once  an  arm  of  the  sea — and  it  looks  like  it, 
doesn't  it  ?  Over  on  the  Mosby  side  the  rocks 
are  all  granite  and  porphyry,  tilted  up  at  all 
sorts  of  angles ;  but  down  there  it  is  sandstone 
and  limestone,  lying  flat — a  sure  sign  that  it  was 
once  the  bottom  of  a  sea." 

"  Is  the  valley  inhabited  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Down  at  the  southern  end,  about  fifty  miles 
away,  there  is  a  Mexican  settlement,  at  the  foot 
of  those  twin  peaks  you  see  down  there  standing 
all  alone  in  the  midst  of  the  valley — the  Dos 
Hermanos  :  Two  Brothers,  they  are  called — but 
up  at  this  end  there  are  no  inhabitants,  I  be- 
lieve." 


The   Mescalero   Valley  S5 

"  Well,  there  will  be  some  day,  I  expect," 
said  I.  "  It  ought  to  be  a  fine  situation  for  a 
saw-mill,  for  instance." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that.  There  would  be 
no  way  of  getting  your  product  to  market.  Old 
JefF  Andrews,  the  founder  of  Mosby,  told  me 
about  it  once — he's  been  across  it  two  or  three 
times — and  he  says  that  the  country  is  so  slashed 
with  caiions  that  a  wheeled  vehicle  couldn't 
travel  across  it,  and  consequently  the  expense  of 
road-making  would  amount  to  about  as  much 
as  the  value  of  the  timber." 

"  I  see.  And,  of  course,  the  streams  are  much 
too  shallow  to  float  out  the  logs.  Well,  let  us 
get  along  down." 

"  All  right.  By  the  way,  before  we  start, 
there  was  one  thing  I  wanted  to  say  : — If  we 
should  happen  to  get  separated,  all  you  have 
to  do  is  to  turn  3^our  face  eastward,  climb  up 
over  the  Mosby  Ridge,  and  you'll  find  yourself 
on  our  own  creek,  either  above  or  below  the 
town.  It's  very  plain  ;  you  can  hardly  lose  your- 
self— by  daylight  at  any  rate.  So,  now,  let's  be 
off^." 

The  climb  down  on  this  side  we  found  to  be 
very  much  steeper  than  the  climb  up  on  the 
other  had  been.     We  dropped,  by  Dick's  guess, 


56  The  Trail   of  the   Badger 

about  three  thousand  feet  in  the  three  miles  we 
traversed  ere  we  found  ourselves  in  the  midst 
of  the  thick  timber,  walking  on  comparatively 
level  ground.  Keeping  along  the  eastern  side 
of  the  valley,  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Mosby 
Ridge,  we  made  our  way  forward,  steering  by 
the  sun — for  the  trees  were  so  thick  we  could 
see  but  a  short  distance  ahead — when  we  came 
upon  one  of  the  little  open  spaces  I  have  men- 
tioned. We  were  just  about  to  walk  out  from 
among  the  trees,  when  my  companion,  with  a 
sudden,  "  Pst !  "  stepped  behind  a  tree-trunk  and 
went  down  on  one  knee.  Without  knowing  the 
reason  for  this  move,  I  did  the  same,  and  on  my 
making  a  motion  with  my  eyebrows,  as  much  as 
to  say,  "  What's  up?"  Dick  whispered  : 

"  Do  you  see  that  white  patch  on  the  other 
side  of  the  clearing?  An  antelope  with  its  back 
to  us.  I'll  try  to  draw  him  over  here,  so  that 
you  may  get  a  shot." 

So  saying,  Dick  took  out  a  red  cotton  hand- 
kerchief, poked  the  corner  of  it  into  the  muzzle 
of  his  rifle,  and  standing  erect  behind  his  tree, 
held  out  his  flag  at  right  angles. 

At  first  the  antelope  took  no  notice,  but  pres- 
ently, catching  a  glimpse  of  the  strange  object 
out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye,  he  whirled  round 


IT  WAS  A   SPL 


ENDID   Ct-lANCE;     NOBODt'   COULU  Ablx    FuR  A   bETTER    TARGET. 


The   Mescalero   Valley  57 

and  stood  for  a  moment  facing  us  with  his  head 
held  high.  A  slight  puff  of  wind  fluttered  the 
handkerchief;  the  antelope  started  as  though  to 
run  ;  but  finding  himself  unhurt,  his  curiosity 
got  the  better  of  his  fears,  and  he  came  trotting 
straight  across  the  clearing  in  order  to  get  a 
closer  view.  At  about  a  hundred  yards  distance 
he  stopped,  his  body  turned  broadside  to  us,  all 
ready  to  bolt  at  the  shortest  notice,  when  Dick 
whispered  to  me  to  shoot. 

It  was  a  splendid  chance  ;  nobody  could  ask 
for  a  better  target ;  but  do  you  think  I  could 
hold  that  rifle  steady  ?  Not  a  bit  of  it !  In- 
stead of  one  sight,  I  could  see  half  a  dozen  ;  and 
finding  that  the  longer  I  aimed  the  more  I 
trembled,  I  at  length  pulled  the  trigger  and 
chanced  it.  Where  the  bullet  went  I  know  not : 
somewhere  southward  ;  and  so  did  the  antelope, 
and  at  much  the  same  pace,  if  I  am  any  judge 
of  speed. 

"  Never  mind,  old  chap,"  said  Dick,  laughing. 
"  That  is  liable  to  happen  to  anybody.  Most 
people  get  a  touch  of  the  buck-fever  the  first 
time  they  try  to  shoot  a  wild  animal.  You'll 
probably  find  yourself  all  right  the  next  chance 
you  get." 

"  I'm  afraid  there's  not  likely  to  be  a  *  next 


58  The  Trail   of  the   Badger 

chance,'  is  there?  "  I  asked.  "  Won't  that  shot 
scare  all  the  deer  out  of  the  country  ?  " 

"  I  hardly  think  so :  the  deer  are  almost 
never  disturbed  down  here ;  it  isn't  like  the 
Mosby  side,  where  the  prospectors  are  tramping 
over  the  hills  all  the  time." 

"  Don't  they  ever  come  down  here,  then?  " 

"  No,  never.  There  is  a  common  saying,  as 
you  know,  perhaps,  that  *  gold  is  where  you 
find  it';  meaning  that  it  may  be  anywhere — 
one  place  is  as  likely  as  another.  But,  all  the 
same,  the  prospectors  seem  to  think  the  chances 
are  better  among  the  granite  and  porphyry  rocks 
on  the  other  side,  where  the  formation  has  been 
cracked  and  broken  and  heaved  up  on  end  by 
volcanic  force.  They  never  trouble  to  come 
down  here,  where  any  one  can  see  at  a  glance 
that  the  deposits  have  never  been  disturbed 
since  they  were  first  laid  down  at  the  bottom 
of  a  great  inlet  of  the  ocean." 

"  I  see  what  3^ou  mean  :  and  as  nobody  ever 
comes  down  here  the  deer  are  not  fidgety  and 
suspicious  as  they  would  be  if  they  were  always 
being  disturbed." 

"  That's  it,  exactly.  They  are  so  unused  to 
the  presence  of  human  beings  that  I  doubt  if 
they  would  take  any  notice  of  your  shot  except 


The  Mescalero  Valley  59 

to  cock  their  ears  and  sniff  at  the  breeze  for  a 
minute  or  two.  Anyhow,  we'll  go  ahead  and 
find  out.  Let  us  go  across  this  clearing  and  see 
if  there  isn't  a  spring  on  the  other  side.  That 
antelope  was  drinking  when  we  first  saw  him, 
if  I'm  not  mistaken." 

Sure  enough,  just  before  we  entered  the  trees 
again,  we  came  upon  a  pool  of  water  around 
the  softened  rim  of  which  were  many  tracks  of 
animals. 

"  Hallo  !  "  cried  Dick.  "  Just  look  here  !  See 
the  wolf  tracks — any  number  of  them.  It  must 
be  a  gr6at  wolf  country  as  well  as  a  great  deer 
country — in  fact,  because  it  is  a  great  deer 
country.  I  shouldn't  like  to  be  caught  here 
in  the  winter  with  so  many  wolves  about ;  they 
are  unpleasant  neighbors  when  food  is  scarce." 

"  Are  they  dangerous  to  a  man  with  a  gun  ?  " 
I  asked. 

"  Yes,  they  are.  One  wolf — or  even  two — 
doesn't  matter  much  to  a  man  with  a  breach- 
loading  rifle ;  but  when  a  dozen  or  twenty  get 
after  you,  you'll  do  well  to  go  up  a  tree  and 
stay  there.  A  pack  of  hungry  wolves  is  no 
trifle,  I  can  tell  you." 

"  Have  3^ou  ever  had  any  experience  with 
them  yourself?  " 


6o  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

"  I  did  once,  and  a  mighty  distressing  one  it 
was,  though  it  didn't  hurt  me,  personally.  I 
was  out  hunting  with  my  dog,  Blucher,  a  little 
short-legged,  long-bodied  fellow  of  no  particular 
breed,  and  was  up  among  the  tall  timber  east  of 
the  house,  going  along  suspecting  nothing,  when 
Blucher,  all  of  a  sudden,  began  to  whine  and 
crowd  against  my  legs.  I  looked  back,  and 
there  I  saw  six  big  timber-wolves  slipping  down 
a  hill  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  behind  me. 
They  stopped  when  I  stopped,  but  as  soon  as 
I  moved,  on  they  came  again — it  was  very  un- 
comfortable, especially  when  two  of  them  van- 
ished among  the  trees,  and  I  couldn't  tell 
whether  they  might  not  be  running  to  get 
round  the  other  side  of  me.  I  went  on  up  the 
next  rise,  the  wolves  keeping  about  the  same 
distance  behind  me,  and  as  soon  as  we  were  out 
of  their  sight,  Blficher  and  I  ran  for  it.  But  it 
was  no  use :  the  wolves  had  taken  the  same 
opportunity,  and  when  I  looked  back  again, 
there  they  were,  all  six  of  them,  not  a  hundred 
yards  behind  this  time. 

"  It  began  to  look  serious ;  for  though  it  was 
possible  that  they  were  after  Blucher,  and  not 
after  me  at  all,  I  couldn't  be  sure  of  that.  So, 
first  picking  out  a  tree  to  go  up  in  case  of  neces- 


The   Mescalero  Valley  6i 

sity,  I  knelt  down  and  fired  into  the  bunch, 
getting  one.  I  had  hoped  that  the  others  would 
turn  and  run,  but  the  shot  seemed  to  have  a 
directly  opposite  effect:  the  remaining  five  wolves 
came  charging  straight  at  me. 

"  I  gave  the  dog  one  kick  and  yelled  at  him 
to  '  Go  home  ! ' — it  was  all  I  could  do — dropped 
my  rifle,  jumped  for  a  branch,  and  was  out  of 
reach  when  the  wolves  rushed  past  in  pursuit  of 
Blucher. 

*'  Poor  little  beast !  Though  he  was  a  mongrel 
with  no  pretence  at  a  pedigree,  he  was  a  good 
hunting  dog  and  a  faithful  friend.  But  what 
chance  had  he  in  a  race  with  five  long-legged, 
half-starved  timber-wolves  ?  It  happened  out  of 
my  sight,  I  am  glad  to  say  ;  all  I  heard  was  one 
yelp,  followed  by  an  angry  snarling,  and  then 
all  was  silent  again." 

Dick  paused  for  a  moment,  his  face  looking 
very  grim  for  a  boy,  and  then  continued  :  "  I've 
hated  the  sight  and  the  sound  of  wolves  ever 
since.  Of  course,  I  know  they  were  only  fol- 
lowing their  nature,  but — I  can't  help  it — I  hate 
a  wolf,  and  that's  all  there  is  to  it." 

"  I  don't  wonder,"  said  I.     "  Any  one " 

"  Hark  !  "  cried  Dick,  clapping  his  hand  on 
my  arm.     "  Did  you  hear  that?     Listen  !  " 


62  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

We  stood  silent  for  a  moment,  and  then,  far 
off  in  the  direction  from  which  we  had  come,  I 
heard  a  curious  whimpering  sound,  the  nature 
of  which  I  could  not  understand. 

"What  is  it?"  I  whispered,  involuntarily 
sinking  my  voice. 

"  Wolves — hunting." 

"Hunting  what?" 

"  I  don't  know  ;  but  we'll  move  away  from 
here,  anyhow.     Come  on." 

Dick's  manner,  more  than  his  words,  made 
me  feel  a  little  uneasy  and  I  followed  him  very 
willingly  as  he  set  off  at  a  smart  walk  through 
the  timber. 

"  You  don't  suppose  they  are  hunting  us, 
Dick,  do  you  ?  "  I  asked,  as  we  strode  along  side 
by  side. 

"  I  can't  tell  yet.  It  seems  hardly  likely — in 
daylight,  and  at  this  time  of  year.  I  could  un- 
derstand it  if  it  were  winter.  If  they  are  hunt- 
ing us,  it  is  probably  because  they,  like  the  deer, 
are  unacquainted  with  men,  and  never  having 
been  shot  at,  they  don't  know  what  danger  they 
are  running  into.  Still,  I  feel  a  little  suspicious 
that  it  is  our  trail  they  are  following.  They  are 
coming  down  right  on  the  line  we  took,  at  any 
rate.     We  shall  be  able  to  decide,  though,  in  a 


The  Mescalero   Valley  63 

minute  or  two.  Look  ahead.  Do  you  see  how 
the  trees  are  thinning  out?  We  are  coming  to 
another  open  space,  a  big  one,  I  think  ;  I  noticed 
it  when  we  were  up  on  the  ridge  just  now." 

"  What  good  will  that  do  us?  "  I  asked. 

"  We  shall  be  able  to  get  a  sight  of  them. 
Come  on.     I'll  show  you." 

True  enough,  we  presently  stepped  out  from 
among  the  trees  again  and  found  ourselves  on 
the  edge  of  another  open,  grassy  space,  very 
much  larger  than  the  last  one.  It  was  about 
three  hundred  yards  across  to  the  other  side, 
and  a  mile  in  length  from  east  to  west.  We  had 
struck  it  about  midway  of  its  east-and-west 
length.  Out  into  the  open  Dick  walked  some 
twenty  yards,  and  there  stopped  once  more  to 
listen. 

We  had  not  long  to  wait.  The  eager  whimper 
came  again,  much  nearer,  and  now  and  then  a 
quavering  howl.  I  did  not  like  the  sound  at  all. 
I  looked  at  Dick,  who  was  standing  "  facing  the 
music  "  and  frowning  thoughtfully. 

"  Well,  Dick  !  "  I  exclaimed,  getting  impatient. 

"  I  think  they  are  after  us,"  said  he. 

"And  what  do  you  mean  to  do?  Not  stay 
out  here  in  the  open,  I  suppose." 

"  Not  we  ;  at  least,  not  for  more  than  five  min- 


64  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

utes.  Look  here,  Frank,"  he  went  on,  speaking 
quickly.  "  I'll  tell  you  what  I  propose  to  do. 
We'll  keep  out  here  in  the  open,  about  this  dis- 
tance from  the  trees,  and  make  straight  eastward 
for  the  Mosby  Ridge  ;  it  is  only  half  a  mile  or  so 
to  the  woods  at  that  end  of  the  clearing  and  we 
can  make  it  in  five  minutes.  Then,  if  the 
wolves  are  truly  hunting  us,  they  will  follow  our 
trail  out  into  the  open,  when  we  shall  get  a 
sight  of  them  and  be  able  to  count  them.  If 
they  are  only  three  or  four  we  can  handle  them 
all  right,  but  if  there  is  a  big  pack  of  them  we 
shall  have  to  take  to  a  tree.  Give  me  your  rifle 
to  carry — my  breathing  machinery  is  better  used 
to  it  than  yours — and  we'll  make  a  run  for  it." 

It  was  only  a  short  half-mile  we  had  to  run — 
quite  enough  for  me,  though — and  under  the 
first  tree  we  came  to,  Dick  stopped. 

"  This  will  do,"  said  he,  handing  back  my 
rifle.  '*  We'll  wait  here  now  and  watch.  Hark  ! 
They're  getting  pretty  close.  Hallo !  Hallo  I 
Why,  look  there,  Frank  !  " 

That  Dick  should  thus  exclaim  was  not  to  be 
wondered  at,  for  out  from  the  trees,  scarce  a 
hundred  paces  from  us,  there  came,  not  the 
wolves,  but  a  man  !  And  such  an  odd-looking 
man,  riding  on  such  an  odd-looking  steed  ! 


The  Mescalero   Valley  65 

"  Wliat  is  he  riding  011,  Dick?"  I  asked. 
"A  mule?" 

"  No  ;  a  burro — a  jack — a  donkey  ;  a  big  one, 
too  ;  and  it  need  be,  for  he  is  a  tremendous  fel- 
low.    Did  you  ever  see  such  a  chest  ?  " 

"  Is  he  an  Indian  ?  " 

"  No  ;  a  Mexican.  An  Indian  wouldn't  deign 
to  ride  a  burro.  I  understand  it  all  now.  The 
wolves  are  not  hunting  us  at  all  :  they  are  after 
the  donkey.  And  the  man  is  aware  of  it,  too : 
see  how  he  keeps  looking  behind.  What  is 
that  thing  he  is  carrying  in  his  left  hand  ?  A 
bow  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  a  bow.  And  a  quiver  of  arrows  over 
his  shoulder." 

"So  he  has !  He  doesn't  seem  to  be  in  much 
of  a  hurry,  does  he  ?  Evidently  he  is  not 
much  afraid  of  the  wolves.  Why,  he's  stopping 
to  wait  for  them  !  He's  a  plucky  fellow.  Why, 
Frank,  just  look!  Did  you  ever  see  such  a 
queer-looking  specimen  ?  " 

This  exclamation  was  drawn  from  my  com- 
panion involuntarily  when  the  Mexican,  check- 
ing his  donkey,  sprang  to  the  ground.  He  cer- 
tainly was  a  queer-looking  specimen.  If  he  had 
looked  like  a  giant  on  donkey-back,  he  looked 
like  a  dwarf  on  foot ;  for,  though  his  head  was 


66  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

big  and  his  body  huge,  his  legs  were  so  short 
that  he  appeared  to  be  scarce  five  feet  high ; 
while  his  muscular  arms  were  of  such  length 
that  he  could  touch  his  knees  without  stooping. 

To  add  to  his  strange  appearance,  the  man 
was  clad  in  a  long,  sleeveless  coat  made  of  deer- 
skin, with  the  hairy  side  out. 

We  had  hardly  had  time  to  take  in  all  these 
peculiarities  when  Dick  once  more  exclaimed  : 

**  Ah  !  Here  they  come  !  One,  two,  three — 
only  five  of  them  after  all." 

As  he  spoke,  the  wolves  came  loping  out 
from  among  the  trees  ;  but  the  moment  they 
struck  our  cross-trail  the  suspicious,  wary 
creatures  all  stopped  with  one  accord,  puzzled 
by  coming  upon  a  scent  they  had  not  expected. 

This  was  the  Mexican's  opportunity.  Raising 
his  long  left  arm,  he  drew  an  arrow  to  its  head 
and  let  fly. 

I  thought  he  had  missed,  for  I  saw  the  arrow^ 
strike  the  ground  and  knock  up  a  little  puff*  of 
dust.  But  I  was  mistaken.  One  of  the  wolves 
gave  a  yelp,  ran  back  a  few  steps,  fell  down,  got 
up  again  and  ran  another  few  steps,  fell  again, 
and  this  time  lay  motionless.  The  arrow  had 
gone  right  through  him  ! 

Almost  at  the  same  instant  Dick  raised  his 


The   Mescalero  Valley  67 

rifle  and  fired.  The  shot  was  electrical.  One 
of  the  wolv^es  fell,  when  the  remaining  three  in- 
stantly turned  tail  and  ran. 

But  not  only  did  the  wolves  run  :  the  Mexi- 
can, casting  one  glance  in  our  direction,  sprang 
upon  his  donkey  and  away  he  went,  at  a  pace 
that  was  surprising  considering  the  respective 
sizes  of  man  and  beast. 

It  was  in  vain  that  Dick  ran  out  from  under 
our  tree  and  shouted  after  him  something  in 
Spanish.  I  could  distinguish  the  word,  amigos, 
two  or  three  times  repeated,  but  the  man  took 
no  notice.  Perhaps  he  did  not  believe  in  friend- 
ships so  suddenly  declared.  At  any  rate,  he 
neither  looked  back  nor  slackened  his  pace,  and 
in  a  minute  or  less  he  and  his  faithful  steed 
vanished  into  the  timber  on  the  south  side  of 
the  clearing. 

The  whole  incident  had  not  occupied  five 
minutes ;  but  for  the  presence  of  the  two  dead 
wolves  one  would  have  been  tempted  to  believe 
it  had  never  happened  at  all — solitude  and 
silence  reigned  once  more. 

"  Well,  wasn't  that  a  queer  thing!"  cried  Dick. 

"  It  certainly  was,"  I  replied.  "  I  wonder 
who  the  man  is.  Anyhow,  he's  not  coming 
back,  so  let's  go  and  pick  up  his  arrow." 


CHAPTER  IV 

RACING    THE    STORM 

WALKING  over  to  where  the  two  wolves 
lay,  we  soon  found  the  arrow,  its  head 
buried  out  of  sight  in  the  hard  ground,  showing 
with  what  force  it  had  come  from  the  bow.  It 
was  carefully  made  of  a  bit  of  some  hard  wood, 
scraped  down  to  the  proper  diameter,  and  fitted 
with  three  feathers — eagle  feathers,  Dick  said — 
one-third  as  long  as  the  shaft,  very  neatly  bound 
on  with  some  kind  of  fine  sinew\ 

"  Looks  like  a  Ute  arrow,"  remarked  my  com- 
panion, as  he  stooped  to  pick  it  up ;  "  yet  the 
man  was  a  Mexican,  I  am  sure.  I  suppose  he 
must  have  got  it  from  the  Indians." 

"  Do  the  Utes  use  copper  arrow-heads  ?  "  I 
asked. 

"  No,  they  don't.  They  use  iron  or  steel  now- 
adays.    Why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  Because  this  arrow-head  is  copper,"  I  replied. 

"  Why,  so  it  is  ! "  cried  Dick,  rubbing  the  soil 
from  the  point  on  his  trouser-leg.  "  That's  very 
68 


Racing  the  Storm  69 

odd.  I  never  saw  one  before.  I  feel  prett}^  sure 
the  Indians  never  use  copper :  it  is  too  soft. 
This  bit  seems  to  take  an  edge  pretty  well, 
though.  See,  the  point  doesn't  seem  to  have 
been  damaged  by  sticking  into  the  ground  ;  and 
it  has  been  filed  pretty  sharp,  too  ;  or,  what  is 
more  likely,  rubbed  sharp  on  a  stone.  It  has 
evidently  been  made  by  hand  from  a  piece  of 
native  copper." 

"  I  wonder  why  the  man  should  choose  to  use 
copper,"  said  I.  "  Though  when  you  come  to 
think  of  it,  Dick,"  I  added,  ''  I  don't  see  why  it 
shouldn't  make  a  pretty  good  arrow-head.  It  is 
soft  metal,  of  course,  but  it  is  only  soft  by  com- 
parison with  other  metals.  This  wedge  of  cop- 
per weighs  two  or  three  ounces,  and  it  is  quite 
hard  enough  to  go  through  the  hide  of  an  ani- 
mal at  twenty  or  thirty  yards'  distance  when 
'  fired  '  with  the  force  that  this  one  was." 

"  That's  true.  And  I  expect  the  explanation 
is  simple  enough  why  the  man  uses  copper.  It 
is  probably  from  necessity  and  not  from  choice. 
Like  nearly  all  Mexicans  of  the  peon  class,  he 
probably  never  has  a  cent  of  money  in  his  pos- 
session. Consequently,  as  he  can't  buy  a  gun, 
he  uses  a  bow  ;  and  for  the  same  reason,  being 
unable  to  procure  iron  for  arrow-heads,  he  uses 


JO  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

copper.  I  expect  he  comes  from  the  settlement 
at  the  foot  of  the  valley,  for  copper  is  a  very 
common  metal  down  there." 

"  Why  should  it  be  more  common  there  than 
elsewhere?"  I  asked. 

"  Well,  that's  the  question — and  a  very  inter- 
esting question,  too.  The  professor  and  I  were 
down  in  that  neighborhood  about  a  year  ago, 
and  on  going  into  the  village  we  were  a  good 
deal  surprised  to  find  that  every  household 
seemed  to  possess  a  bowl  or  a  pot  or  a  cup  or  a 
dipper  or  all  four,  perhaps,  hammered  out  of 
native  copper — all  of  them  having  the  appear- 
ance of  great  age.  There  were  dozens  of  them 
altogether." 

*'  How  do  they  get  them?  "  I  asked. 

"  That's  the  question  again — and  the  Mexicans 
themselves  don't  seem  to  know.  They  say,  if 
you  ask  them,  that  they've  always  had  them. 
And  the  professor  did  ask  them.  He  went  into 
one  house  after  another  and  questioned  the  peo- 
ple, especially  the  old  people,  as  to  where  the 
copper  came  from  ;  but  none  of  them  could  give 
him  any  information.  I  wondered  why  he 
should  be  so  persevering  in  the  matter — though 
when  there  is  anything  he  desires  to  learn,  no 
trouble  is  too  much  for  him — but  after  we  had 


Racing   the   Storm  71 

left  the  place  he  explained  it  all  to  me,  and  then 
I  ceased  to  wonder." 

"  What  was  his  explanation,  then  ?  " 

"  He  told  me  that  when  he  was  in  Santa  Fe 
about  fifteen  years  before,  he  made  the  acquaint- 
ance of  a  Spanish  gentleman  of  the  remarkable 
name  of  Blake " 

"  Blake  !  "  I  interrupted.  "  That's  a  queer 
name  for  a  Spaniard." 

*'  Yes,"  replied  Dick.  "  The  professor  says  he 
was  a  descendant  of  one  of  those  Irishmen  who 
fled  to  the  continent  in  the  time  of  William  III, 
of  England,  most  of  them  going  into  the  service 
of  the  king  of  France  and  others  to  other  coun- 
tries— Austria  and  Spain  in  particular." 

"  Well,  go  ahead.  Excuse  me  for  inter- 
rupting." 

"  Well,  this  gentleman  was  engaged  in  hunting 
through  the  old  Spanish  records  kept  there  in 
Santa  F6,  looking  up  something  about  the  title 
to  a  land-grant,  I  believe,  and  he  told  the 
professor  that  in  the  course  of  his  search  he  had 
frequently  come  across  copies  of  reports  to  the 
Spanish  government  of  shipments  of  copper  from 
a  mine  called  the  King  Philip  mine.  That  it 
was  a  mine  of  importance  was  evident  from  the 
frequency  and  regularity  of  the  '  returns,' which 


72  The  Trail   of  the   Badger 

were  kept  up  for  a  number  of  years,  until  some- 
where about  the  year  1720,  if  I  remember  rightly, 
they  began  to  become  irregular  and  then  suddenl}^ 
ceased  altogether." 

"Why?" 

"  There  was  no  definite  statement  as  to  why  ; 
but  from  the  reports  it  appeared  that  the  miners 
were  much  harried  by  the  Indians,  sometimes 
the  Navajos  and  sometimes  the  Utes,  while  the 
loss,  partial  or  total,  of  two  or  three  trains  with 
their  escorts,  seemed  to  bring  matters  to  a  climax. 
Shipments  ceased  and  the  mine  was  abandoned." 

"  That's  interesting,"  said  I.  "  And  where  was 
this  King  Philip  mine?" 

**  The  gentleman  could  not  say.  There  seemed 
to  be  no  map  or  description  of  any  kind  among 
the  records ;  but  from  casual  statements,  such  as 
notes  of  the  trains  being  delayed  by  floods  in  this 
or  that  creek,  or  by  snow  blockades  on  certain 
passes,  he  concluded  that  the  mine  was  some- 
where up  in  this  direction." 

"Well,  that  is  certainly  very  interesting. 
And   the  professor,   I  suppose,   concludes   that 

the  Mexicans  down  there  at What's  the 

name  of  the  place?  " 

"  Hermanos — called  so  after  the  two  peaks, 
at  the  foot  of  which  it  stands." 


Racing  the  Storm  73 

"  The  professor  concludes,  I  suppose,  that  the 
Mexicans'  unusual  supply  of  copper  pots  and  pans 
came  originally  from  the  King  Philip  mine." 

"  Yes  ;  and  I've  no  doubt  they  did  ;  though 
the  Mexicans  themselves  had  never  heard  of 
such  a  mine.  Yet — and  it  shows  how  names 
will  stick  long  after  people  have  forgotten  their 
origin — yet,  just  outside  the  village  there  stands 
a  big,  square  adobe  building,  showing  four 
blank  walls  to  the  outside,  with  a  single  gate- 
way cut  through  one  of  them,  flat-roofed  and 
battlemented — a  regular  fortress — and  it  is 
called  to  this  day  the  Casa  del  Rey  :—the  King's 
House.  Now,  why  should  it  be  called  the 
King's  House  ?  The  Mexicans  have  no  idea ; 
but  to  me  it  seems  plain  enough.  The  King 
Philip  mine  was  probably  a  royal  mine,  and 
the  residence  of  the  king's  representative,  the 
storage-place  for  the  product  of  the  mine,  the 
headquarters  of  the  soldier  escort,  would 
naturally  be  called  the  King's  House." 

"  It  seems  likely,  doesn't  it?  Is  that  the  pro- 
fessor's opinion  ?  " 

"Yes.  He  feels  sure  that  the  King  Philip 
mine  is  not  far  from  the  village  ;  possibly — in 
fact,  probably — in  the  Dos  Hermanos  moun- 
tains." 


74  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

"  And  did  he  ever  make  any  attempt  to  find 
it?" 

"  Not  he.  Prospecting  is  altogether  out  of 
his  line.  It  was  only  the  historical  side  of  the 
matter  that  interested  him.  All  he  did  was  to 
write  to  the  Senor  Blake  at  Cadiz,  in  Spain, 
telling  him  about  it ;  though  whether  the  letter 
ever  reached  its  destination  he  has  never 
heard." 

"  And  who  lives  in  the  King's  House  now?" 
I  asked.     "  Anybody  ?  " 

"  Yes.  It  is  occupied  by  a  man  named 
Galvez,  the  '  padron  '  of  the  village,  who  owns, 
or  claims,  all  the  country  down  there  for  five 
miles  square — the  Hermanos  Grant.  We  did 
not  see  him  when  we  were  there,  but  from  what 
we  heard  of  him,  he  seems  to  regard  himself  as 
lord  of  creation  in  those  parts,  owning  not  only 
the  land,  but  the  village  and  the  villagers,  too." 

"  How  so?     How  can  he  own  the  villagers?  " 

"  Why,  it  is  not  an  uncommon  state  of  affairs 
in  these  remote  Mexican  settlements.  The 
padron  provides  the  people  with  the  clothes  or 
the  tools  or  the  seed  they  require  on  credit, 
taking  security  on  next  year's  crop,  and  so 
manages  matters  as  to  get  them  into  debt  and 
keep  them  there ;  for  they  are  an  improvident 


Racing  the  Storm  y^ 

lot.  In  this  way  the}'  fall  into  a  state  of  chronic 
indebtedness,  working  their  land  practically  for 
the  benefit  of  the  padron  and  becoming  in 
effect  little  better  than  slaves." 

"  I  see.  A  pretty  miserable  condition  for  the 
poor  people,  isn't  it?  And  doesn't  this  man, 
Galvez,  with  his  superior  intelligence — pre- 
sumably— know  anything  of  the  King  Philip 
mine?  " 

"  Apparently  not." 

"  My  word,  Dick  !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  What 
fun  it  would  be  to  go  and  hunt  for  it  ourselves, 
wouldn't  it?" 

"  Wouldn't  it  !  I've  often  thought  of  it  be- 
fore, but  I  know  the  professor  would  never 
consent.  He  would  consider  it  a  waste  of  time. 
It's  an  idea  worth  keeping  in  mind,  though,  at 
any  rate.  There's  never  any  telling  what  may 
turn  up.  We  might  get  the  chance  somehow ; 
though  I  confess  I  don't  see  how.  But  we  must 
be  moving,  Frank,"  said  he,  suddenly  changing 
the  subject.     "  It's  getting  latish.     Hallo  !  " 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  I  asked,  looking  won- 
deringly  at  my  companion,  who,  with  his  hand 
held  up  to  protect  his  eyes  from  the  glare,  was 
standing,  staring  at  the  sun. 

"  Why,  the  matter  is,  Frank,   that  the  pro- 


76  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

fessor  will  say  that  I've  neglected  my  duty,  I'm 
afraid.  You  remember  he  told  me  to  look  out 
for  a  change  of  weather  ?  I'd  forgotten  all 
about  it." 

'*  Well,"  said  I,  "I  don't  see  that  that  matters. 
There's  no  sign  of  a  change,  is  there  ?  " 

"  Yes,  there  is.  Look  up  there.  Do  you  see 
a  number  of  tiny  specks  all  hurrying  across  the 
face  of  the  sun  from  north  to  south  ?  " 

"Yes.     What  is  it?" 

"  Snow." 

"  Snow  !  "  I  cried,  incredulously.  "  How  can 
it  be  snow,  when  there  isn't  a  scrap  of  cloud 
visible  anywhere  ?  " 

"  It  is  snow,  all  the  same,"  said  Dick  ;  "  old 
snow  blown  from  the  other  side  of  Mescalero." 

"  But  how  can  that  be,  Dick  ?  All  the  snow 
we  found  up  there  was  packed  like  ice." 

"  Ah,  but  we  were  on  the  south  side.  On  the 
north  side,  where  the  sun  has  no  effect,  it  is 
still  as  loose  and  as  powdery  as  it  was  when  it 
fell." 

"  Of  course.  I  hadn't  thought  of  that.  There 
must  be  a  pretty  stiff  breeze  blowing  overhead 
to  keep  it  hung  up  in  the  sky  like  that  and  not 
allow  a  speck  of  it  to  fall  down  here." 

"  Yes,  it's  blowing  great  guns  up  there,  all 


Racing  the   Storm  y^ 

right,  and  I  am  afraid  we  shall  be  getting  it 
ourselves  before  long.  We  must  dig  out  of  here 
hot  foot,  Frank.  I  hope  we  haven't  stayed  too 
long  as  it  is." 

It  was  hard  to  believe  that  there  was  any- 
thing to  fear  from  the  weather,  with  the  un- 
clouded sun  shining  down  upon  us  with  such 
power  as  to  be  almost  uncomfortably  hot ;  but 
Dick,  I  could  see,  felt  uneasy,  and  as  I  could 
not  presume  to  set  up  my  judgment  against  his 
larger  experience,  I  did  not  wait  to  ask  any 
more  questions,  but  set  off  side  by  side  with 
him  when  he  started  eastward  at  a  pace  which 
required  the  saving  of  all  my  breath  to  keep  up 
with  him. 

We  had  been  walking  through  the  woods  for 
about  half  an  hour  and  were  expecting  to  begin 
the  ascent  of  the  Mosby  Ridge  in  a  few  minutes, 
when  we  were  brought  to  a  standstill  by  coming 
suddenly  upon  the  edge  of  a  deep  cleft  in  the 
earth,  cutting  across  our  course  at  right  angles. 
It  was  one  of  the  many  canons  for  which  the 
Mescalero  valley  was  notorious. 

Looking  across  the  canon,  we  could  see  that 
the  opposite  wall  was  composed  of  a  thick  bed 
of  limestone  overlying  another  of  sandstone,  the 
latter,  being  the  softer,  so  scooped  out  that  the 


yS  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

limestone  cap  projected  several  feet  beyond  it. 
It  appeared  to  be  quite  unscalable,  and  on  our 
side  it  was  doubtless  the  same,  for,  on  cautiously 
approaching  the  edge  as  near  as  we  dared,  we 
could  see  that  the  cliff  fell  sheer  for  three  hun- 
dred feet  or  more. 

"  No  getting  down  here  !  "  cried  Dick.  "  Up 
stream,  Frank  !  The  canon  will  shallow  in  that 
direction." 

Away  we  went  again  along  the  edge  of  the 
gorge,  and  presently  were  rejoiced  to  find  a  place 
where  the  cliff  had  broken  awa}^,  enabling  us, 
with  care,  to  climb  down  to  the  bottom.  The 
other  side,  however,  presented  no  possible  chance 
of  getting  out,  so  on  we  went,  following  up  the 
dry  bed  of  the  arroyo,  looking  out  sharply  for 
some  break  by  which  we  might  climb  up,  when, 
on  rounding  a  slight  bend,  Dick  stopped  so  sud- 
denly that  I,  who  was  close  on  his  heels,  bumped 
up  against  him. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Dick  ?  "  I  asked.  "  What 
are  you  stopping  for  ?  " 

"  Look  up  there  at  Mescalero,"  said  he. 

It  was  the  first  glimpse  of  the  mountain  we 
had  had  since  entering  the  woods  at  the  head  of 
the  valley,  and  the  change  in  its  appearance 
was  alarming.     The  only  part  of  it  we  could 


Racing  the  Storm  79 

see  was  the  summit,  standing  out  clear  and 
sharp  against  the  sky  ;  all  the  rest  of  it,  and  of 
the  whole  range  as  well,  was  shrouded  by  a 
heavy  gray  cloud,  which,  creeping  round  either 
side  of  the  peak,  was  rolling  down  our  side  of 
the  range,  slowly  and  steadily  filling  up  and 
blotting  out  each  gully  and  ravine  as  it  came  to 
it.  There  was  a  stealthy,  vindictive  look  about 
it  I  did  not  at  all  like. 

''Snow,  Dick?"  I  asked. 

"  Yes,  and  lots  of  it,  I'm  afraid.  See  how  the 
cloud  comes  creeping  down — like  cold  molasses. 
I  expect  it  is  so  heavy  with  snow  that  it  can't 
float  in  the  thin  air  up  there,  and  the  north 
wind  is  just  shouldering  it  up  over  the  range 
from  behind.  We've  got  to  get  out  of  here, 
Frank,  as  fast  as  we  can  and  make  the  top  of 
the  Mosby  Ridge,  if  possible,  before  that  cloud 
catches  us.  Once  on  the  other  side,  we're  pretty 
safe  :  I  know  the  country ;  but  on  this  side  I 
don't.  So,  let  us  waste  no  more  time — we  have 
none  to  waste,  I  can  tell  you." 

Nor  did  we  waste  any,  for  neither  of  us  had 
any  inclination  to  linger,  but  pushing  forward 
once  more  along  the  bottom  of  the  caiion,  we 
presently  espied  a  place  where  we  thought  we 
might  climb  out.    Scrambling  up  the  steep  slope 


8o  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

of  shaly  detritus,  we  had  come  ahnost  to  the 
top,  when  to  our  disappointroent  we  found  our 
further  progress  barred  by  a  little  cliff,  not  more 
than  eight  feet  high,  but  slightly  overhanging, 
and  so  smooth  that  there  was  no  hold  for  either 
feet  or  fingers. 

"Up  on  my  shoulders,  Frank!"  cried  my 
companion,  laying  down  his  rifle  and  leaning 
his  arms  against  the  rock  and  his  head  against 
his  arms. 

In  two  seconds  I  was  standing  on  his  shoul- 
ders, but  even  then  1  could  not  get  any  hold  for 
my  hands  on  the  smooth,  curved,  shaly  bank 
which  capped  the  limestone.  Only  a  foot  out 
of  my  reach,  however,  there  grew  a  little  pine 
tree,  about  three  inches  thick,  and  whipping  off 
my  belt  I  lashed  at  the  tree  trunk  with  it.  The 
end  of  the  belt  flew  round  ;  I  caught  it ;  and 
having  now  both  ends  in  my  hands  I  quickly 
relieved  my  companion  of  his  burden  and 
crawled  up  out  of  the  ravine. 

Then,  buckling  the  belt  to  the  tree,  I  took  the 
loose  end  in  one  hand,  and  lying  down  flat  I  re- 
ceived and  laid  aside  the  two  rifles  which  Dick 
handed  up  to  me,  one  at  a  time.  Dick  himself, 
though,  was  out  of  reach,  perceiving  which,  I 
pulled  off  my  coat,  firmly  grasped  the  collar  and 


Racing  the  Storm  8i 

let  down  the  other  end  to  him,  lying,  myself, 
face  downward  upon  the  stones,  with  tlie  end  of 
the  belt  held  tight  in  the  other  hand. 

"All  set?"  cried  Dick;  and,  "All  set !  "  I 
shouted  in  reply.  There  was  a  violent  jerk  upon 
the  coat,  and  the  next  thing,  there  was  Dick 
himself  kneeling  beside  me. 

"Well  done,  old  chap!"  cried  he.  "That 
was  a  great  idea.  Now,  then,  let's  be  off.  I'll 
carry  the  two  rifles.  It's  plain  sailing  now. 
Straight  up  the  Ridge  for  those  two  great  rocks 
that  stand  up  there  like  a  gateway  to  the  pass. 
I  know  the  place.  Only  a  couple  of  thousand 
feet  to  climb  and  then  we  begin  to  go  down-hill. 
We  shall  make  it  now.     Come  on  !  " 

The  trees  were  thin  just  here,  and  as  we 
started  to  ascend  the  pass  Ave  obtained  one  more 
glimpse  of  Mescalero — the  last  one  we  were  to 
get  that  day.  The  bank  of  cloud  had  advanced 
about  half  a  mile  since  we  first  caught  sight  of 
it,  while  it  had  become  so  much  thicker  as  the 
wind  rolled  it  up  from  the  other  side  of  the 
range,  that  now  only  the  very  tip  of  the  moun- 
tain showed  above  it.  Even  as  we  watched  it, 
a  great  fold  of  the  cloud  passed  over  the  summit, 
hiding  it  altogether. 

"See  that,  Dick?"  said  I. 


82  The  Trail  of  the   Badger 

"  Yes,"  he  replied.  "  A  very  big  snow,  I  ex- 
pect. Hark !  Do  you  hear  that  faint  hum- 
ming? The  wind  in  the  pines.  We  shall  be 
getting  it  soon.  Come  on,  now  ;  stick  close  to 
my  heels ;  if  I  go  too  fast,  call  out." 

Away  we  went  up  the  pass,  pressing  forward 
at  the  utmost  speed  I  could  stand,  desperately 
anxious  to  get  as  far  ahead  as  possible  before  the 
storm  should  overtake  us.  The  ascent,  though 
very  steep  on  this  side,  presented  no  other 
special  difficulty,  and  at  the  end  of  an  hour  we 
had  come  close  to  the  two  great  rocks  for  which 
we  had  been  making. 

All  this  time  the  sun  continued  to  shine  down 
upon  us,  though  with  diminishing  power  as  the 
hurrying  snowflakes  passing  above  our  heads  be- 
came thicker  and  thicker;  while,  as  to  the  storm- 
cloud  itself,  we  could  not  see  how  near  it  had 
come,  for  the  pine-clad  mountain,  rising  high  on 
our  left  hand,  obstructed  our  view  in  that  direc- 
tion. That  it  was  not  far  off,  though,  we  were 
pretty  sure,  for  the  humming  of  the  wind  in  the 
woods — the  only  thing  by  which  we  could 
judge — though  faint  at  first,  had  by  this  time 
increased  to  a  roar. 

The  storm  was,  in  fact,  much  nearer  than  we 
imagined,  and  just  as  we  passed  between  the 


Racing  the  Storm  83 

"  gateway  "  rocks  it  burst  upon  us  with  a  fury 
and  a  suddenness  that,  to  me  at  least,  were  ap- 
palling. 

Almost  as  though  a  door  had  been  slammed 
in  our  faces,  the  light  of  the  sun  was  cut  off, 
leaving  us  in  twilight  gloom,  and  with  a  roar 
like  a  stampede  of  cattle  across  a  wooden  bridge, 
a  swirling,  blinding  smother  of  snow,  driven  by 
a  furious  wind,  rushed  through  the  "  gateway," 
taking  us  full  in  the  face,  with  such  violence 
that  Dick  was  thrown  back  against  me,  nearly 
knocking  us  both  from  our  feet.  Instinctively, 
we  crouched  for  shelter  behind  the  rock,  and 
there  we  waited  a  minute  or  two  to  recover 
breath  and  collect  our  senses. 

"  Pretty  bad,"  said  Dick.  "  But  it  might 
have  been  worse  :  it  isn't  very  cold — not  yet ;  we 
have  only  about  two  miles  to  go,  and  I  know  the 
lay  of  the  land.  We'll  start  again  as  soon  as  you 
are  ready.  I'll  go  first  and  you  follow  close  be- 
hind. Whatever  you  do,  don't  lose  sight  of  me 
for  an  instant :  it  won't  do  to  get  lost.  Hark  1 
Did  you  hear  that?  " 

There  was  a  rending  crash,  as  some  big  tree 
gave  way  before  the  storm.  It  was  a  new 
danger,  one  I  had  not  thought  of  before.  I 
looked  apprehensively  at  my  companion. 


84  The  Trail  of  the   Badger 

"  Suppose  one  of  them  should  fall  on  us, 
Dick,"  said  I. 

"  Suppose  it  shouldn't,"  replied  Dick.  "  That 
is  just  as  easy  to  suppose,  and  a  good  deal 
healthier." 

I  confess  I  had  been  feeling  somewhat  scared. 
The  sudden  gloom,  the  astonishing  fury  of  the 
wind,  the  confusing  whirl  and  rush  of  the  snow, 
and  then  from  some  point  unknown  the  sharp 
breaking  of  a  tree,  sounding  in  the  midst  of  the 
universal  roar  like  the  crack  of  a  whip — all  this, 
coming  all  together  and  so  suddenly,  was  quite 
enough,  I  think,  to  "  rattle  "  a  town-bred  boy. 

But  if  panic  is  catching,  so  is  courage.  Dick's 
prompt  and  sensible  remark  acted  like  a  tonic. 
Springing  to  my  feet,  I  cried  : 

"  You  are  right,  old  chap  !  Come  on.  Let's 
step  right  out  at  once.     I'm  ready." 

It  was  most  fortunate  that  Dick  knew  where 
he  was,  for  the  light  was  so  dim  and  the  snow 
so  thick  that  we  could  see  but  a  few  paces 
ahead  ;  while  the  wind,  though  beating  in  gen- 
eral against  our  left  cheeks,  was  itself  useless  as 
a  guide,  for,  being  deflected  by  the  ridges  and 
ravines  of  the  mountain,  it  would  every  now 
and  then  strike  us  square  in  the  face,  stopping 
us  dead,  and  the  next  moment -leap  upon  us 


Racing  the  Storm  85 

from  behind,  sending  me  stumbling  forward 
against  my  leader. 

In  spite  of  its  vindictive  and  ceaseless  as- 
saults, though,  Dick  kept  straight  on,  his  head 
bent  and  his  cap  pulled  down  over  his  ears  ; 
while  I,  following  three  feet  behind,  kept  him 
steadily  in  view.  Presently  he  stopped  with  a 
joyful  shout. 

"  Hurrah,  Frank  !  "  he  cried.  *'  Look  here  I 
Now  we  are  all  right.  Here's  a  thread  to  hold 
on  by :  as  good  as  a  rope  to  a  drowning  man." 

The  "  thread  "  was  a  little  stream  of  water, 
appearing  suddenly  from  I  know  not  where, 
and  running  off  in  the  direction  we  were  going. 

"  This  will  take  us  home,  Frank  !  "  my  com- 
panion shouted  in  my  ear.  "  It  runs  down  and 
joins  our  own  creek  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
above  the  house.  With  this  for  a  guide  we  are 
all  safe  ;  we  mustn't  lose  it,  that's  all.  And  we 
won't  do  that :  we'll  get  into  it  and  walk  in  the 
water  if  we  have  to.  Best  foot  foremost,  now  I 
All  down-hill !     Hurrah,  for  us  !  " 

Dick's  cheerful  view  of  the  situation  was  very 
encouraging,  though,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  it  was 
a  pretty  desperate  struggle  we  had  to  get  down 
the  mountain,  with  the  darkness  increasing  and 
the  snow  becoming  deeper  every  minute.     In- 


86  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

deed  it  was  becoming  a  serious  question  with  me 
whether  I  could  keep  going  much  longer,  when 
at  the  end  of  the  most  perilous  hour  I  ever  went 
through,  we  at  last  came  down  to  the  junction 
of  the  creeks,  and  turning  to  our  right  presently 
caught  sight  of  a  lighted  window. 

Five  minutes  later  we  were  safe  inside  the 
professor's  house — and  high  time  too,  for  I  could 
not  have  stood  much  more  of  it :  I  had  just 
about  reached  the  end  of  my  tether.  But  the 
warmth  and  rest  and  above  all  the  assurance  of 
safety  quickly  had  their  effect,  and  very  soon  I 
found  myself  seated  before  the  fire  consuming 
with  infinite  gusto  a  great  bowl  of  strong,  hot 
soup  which  Romero  had  made  all  ready  for  us ; 
thus  comfortably  winding  up  the  most  eventful 
day  of  my  existence — up  to  that  moment. 


"Y' 


CHAPTER  V 

How  Dick  Brought  the  News 

'OU  ran  it  rather  too  close,  Dick,"  said  the 
professor,  with  a  shake  of  his  head,  when 
we  had  told  him  the  story  of  our  race  with  the 
storm.  "  I  was  beginning  to  be  afraid  ;  not  so 
much  for  you  as  for  your  companion  :  it  was 
too  big  an  undertaking  for  him,  considering 
that  it  was  his  first  day  in  the  mountains ;  even 
leaving  out  the  risk  of  the  snow-storm." 

"  I'm  afraid  I  was  thoughtless,"  replied  Dick, 
penitently  ;  "  especially  in  not  looking  out  for  a 
change  of  weather.  It  did  run  us  too  close,  as 
you  say — a  great  deal  too  close.  But  there  is 
one  thing  I  can  do,  anyhow,  to  repair  that  error 
to  some  extent,  and  I'll  be  off  at  once  and  do  it." 

So  saying,  Dick,  who  by  this  time  had  fin- 
ished his  supper,  jumped  out  of  his  chair  and 
began  putting  on  his  overcoat. 

"  Where  are  you  off  to,  Dick?  "  I  exclaimed. 
"  Not  going  out  again  to-night  ?  " 

'*  Only  a  little  way,"  replied  Dick.  "  Down 
87 


88  The  Trail   of  the  Badger 

to  the  town  to  let  your  uncle  know  that  you  are 
all  safe.     Hell  be  pretty  anxious,  I  expect." 

I  had  thought  of  that,  but  I  could  see  no  way 
of  getting  over  it.  I  could  not  go  myself,  for 
even  if  I  had  dared  to  venture  I  had  not  the 
strength  for  it,  and  of  course  I  could  not  expect 
any  one  else  to  do  it  for  me.  My  first  thought, 
therefore,  when  Dick  announced  that  he  was 
going,  was  one  of  satisfaction  ;  though  my  next 
thought,  following  very  quickly  upon  the  first 
one,  was  to  protest  against  his  doing  any  such 
thing. 

"  No,  no,  Dick,"  I  cried,  "  it's  too  risky — you 
mustn't !  Uncle  Tom  will  be  worried,  I  know, 
but  he  will  conclude  that  I  am  staying  the  night 
with  you.  And  though  I  should  be  glad  to 
have  his  mind  relieved,  I  don't  consider — and 
he  would  say  the  same,  I'm  pretty  sure — that 
that  is  a  good  enough  reason  for  you  to  take 
such  a  risk." 

"  Thanks,  old  chap,"  replied  Dick  ;  "  but  it 
isn't  so  much  of  a  risk  as  you  think.  Going 
down  wind  to  the  town  is  a  very  different  mat- 
ter from  coming  down  that  rough  mountain 
wdth  the  storm  beating  on  us  from  every  side. 
I've  been  over  the  trail  a  thousand  times,  and  I 
believe  I  could  follow  it  with  my  eyes  shut ;  and, 


How   Dick   Brought  the  News         89 

anyhow,  to  lose  your  way  is  pretty  near  im- 
possible, you  know,  with  the  canon  on  your 
right  hand  and  the  mountain  on  your  left.  So, 
don't  you  worry  yourself,  Frank  :  I'll  be  under 
cover  again  in  an  hour  or  less." 

Seeing  that  the  professor  nodded  approval,  I 
protested  no  more,  though  I  still  had  my  doubts 
about  letting  him  go. 

"  Well,  Dick,"  said  I,  "  it's  mighty  good  of 
you.  I  wish  I  could  go,  too,  but  that  is  out 
of  the  question,  I'm  afraid  :  I  should  only 
hamper  you  if  I  tried.  I  can  tell  you  one  thing, 
anyhow  :  Uncle  Tom  will  appreciate  it — you 
may  be  sure  of  that." 

In  this  I  was  right,  though  I  little  suspected 
at  the  moment  in  what  form  his  appreciation 
was  to  show  itself.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Dick's 
action  in  braving  the  storm  a  second  time  that 
evening  was  to  be  a  turning-point  in  his  fortune 
and  mine. 

"  Good-night,  Frank,"  said  he.  "  I'll  be  back 
again  in  the  morning,  I  expect.  Hope  you'll 
sleep  as  well  in  my  bed  as  I  intend  to  do  in 
yours.     Good-night." 

So  saying,  Dick,  this  time  overcoated,  gloved 
and  ear-capped,  opened  the  door  and  stepped 
out.     Watching    him  from  the  window,  I  saw 


9©  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

him  striding  off  down  wind,  to  be  lost  to  sight 
in  ten  seconds  in  the  maze  of  driving  snow. 

"  Are  you  sure  it's  all  right,  Professor?  "  said 
I,  anxiously.  "  There's  time  yet  to  call  him 
back." 

"  It  is  all  right,"  replied  my  host,  reassuringly. 
"  You  need  not  fear.  Dick  has  been  out  in 
many  a  storm  before,  and  he  knows  very  well 
how  to  take  care  of  himself.  You  may  be  sure 
I  would  not  let  him  go  if  I  thought  it  were  not 
all  right.  And  now,  I  think,  it  would  be  well 
if  you  took  possession  of  Dick's  bed.  You  have 
had  a  very  hard  day  and  need  a  good  long  rest." 

To  this  I  made  no  objection,  and  early  though 
it  was,  I  was  asleep  in  five  minutes,  too  tired  to 
be  disturbed  even  by  the  insistent  banging  and 
howling  of  the  storm  outside. 

Meanwhile,  Uncle  Tom,  down  in  the  town, 
was,  as  I  had  suspected,  fretting  and  fuming  and 
worrying  himself  in  his  uncertainty  as  to 
whether  I  was  safe  under  cover  or  not. 

The  storm  had  taken  the  town  by  surprise, 
for  the  morning  had  opened  gloriously,  clear 
and  sharp  and  still,  as  it  had  done  every  day  for 
a  month  past,  and  most  people  naturally  sup- 
posed there  was  to  be  another  day  as  fine  as 
those  which  had  gone  before ;  little  suspecting 


How   Dick   Brought  the  News         91 

that  the  north  wind,  up  there  among  the  ice- 
bound peaks  and  gorges  of  the  mother  range, 
was  at  that  moment  marshaling  its  forces  for 
a  mad  rush  down  into  the  valley. 

And  how  should  they  suspect  ?  Of  the  three 
hundred  people  comprising  the  population,  not 
one,  not  even  old  Jeff  Andrews  himself,  the 
patriarch  of  the  district,  had  spent  more  than 
two  winters  in  the  camp.  In  the  year  of  its 
founding  there  were  about  a  dozen  men  and 
no  women  who  had  braved  the  hardships  of  the 
first  winter,  but  as  the  fame  of  the  new  camp 
extended  to  the  outer  world,  other  people  began 
to  come  in,  slowly  at  first  and  then  in  larger 
numbers,  so  that  by  this  time  the  population 
numbered,  as  I  said,  about  three  hundred  souls, 
including  twenty-one  women  and  two  babies ; 
while  at  a  rough  guess  I  should  say  there  was 
about  two-thirds  of  a  dog  to  each  citizen,  count- 
ing in  the  twelve  children  of  school  age  and  the 
two  babies  as  well. 

These  dogs,  by  the  way,  were  the  chief  source 
of  entertainment  in  the  town,  for  during  the 
hours  of  daylight  there  was  always  a  fight 
going  on  somewhere,  while  at  night  most  of 
them,  especially  the  younger  ones,  used  to  sit 
out  in  the  middle  of  the  street  barking  defiance 


92  The  Trail   of  the  Badger 

at  the  coyotes,  which,  from  the  hills  all  round, 
howled  back  at  them  in  unceasing  chorus.  This 
part  of  the  programme  was  changed,  however, 
later  in  the  winter,  for  one  half-cloudy  night 
the  blacksmith's  long-legged  shepherd  pup, 
seated  in  front  of  the  forge  door,  was  barking 
himself  hoarse  at  the  moon  when  a  big  timber- 
wolf  came  slipping  down  out  of  the  woods  and 
finished  the  puppy's  song  and  his  existence  with 
one  snap.  After  this  the  other  dogs  were  more 
careful  about  the  hours  they  kept. 

But  to  return  to  the  human  part  of  the 
population.  Considering  how  few  of  them  had 
spent  a  winter  in  this  high  valley  ;  remember- 
ing that  every  one  of  the  grown-up  citizens  had 
been  born  in  some  other  State,  and  that  the 
very  great  majority  were  newcomers  in  Colorado, 
it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  storm  should 
have  caught  them  unawares.  For,  in  Colorado, 
if  there  is  one  thing  almost  impossible  to  fore- 
cast it  is  the  weather,  especiall}^  in  the  moun- 
tains where  it  is  made,  where  the  snow-storms 
and  the  thunder-storms,  brewing  in  secret  be- 
hind the  peaks,  bounce  out  on  3^ou  before  you 
know  it. 

So,  on  this  sunshiny  morning,  most  people 
went  about  their  usual  occupations  unsuspicious 


How   Dick   Brought  the  News         93 

of  evil ;  it  was  only  the  few  old-timers  who 
divined  what  was  coming,  and  their  little  pre- 
cautions, such  as  shutting  their  doors  and 
windoAVS  before  leaving  the  house,  merely  ex- 
cited a  smile  or  a  word  of  chaff  from  the 
"  plum-sure  "  newcomers.  For  it  is  always  the 
new  arrival  who  thinks  he  can  predict  the 
weather ;  the  old-stager,  having  had  experience 
enough  to  be  aware  that  he  knows  nothing  about 
it  for  certain,  can  seldom  be  persuaded  to  ven- 
ture a  decided  opinion. 

Tied  to  a  hitching-post  outside  the  assayer's 
door  that  afternoon  were  two  ponies,  and  about 
two  o'clock  Mr.  Warren,  himself,  and  Uncle  Tom, 
issued  from  the  house,  prepared  for  their  ride 
up  on  Cape  Horn — a  big,  bare  mountain  lying 
southeast  of  town.  As  they  stepped  down  from 
the  porch,  however,  Warren  happened  to  notice 
old  Jeff  Andrews  walking  up  the  street,  carry- 
ing over  his  shoulder  a  great  buffalo-skin  over- 
coat, which,  considering  the  warmth  of  the  day, 
seemed  rather  out  of  place. 

"Hallo,  Jeff!"  the  assayer  called  out. 
"  What  are  you  carrying  that  thing  for  ?  Are 
we  going  to  have  a  change  ?  " 

Jeff,  a  gray-bearded,  round-shouldered  man  of 
sixty,  with  a  face  burnt  all  of  one  color  by  years 


94  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

of  life  in  the  open,  paused  for  a  moment  before 
replying,  and  then,  knowing  that  the  assayer 
was  not  one  of  those  ''  guying  tenderfeet,"  for 
whom,  as  he  expressed  it,  "  he  had  no  manner 
of  use,"  he  answered  genially  : 

"Well,  gents,  I  ain't  no  weather  prophet — 
I'll  leave  that  business  to  the  latest  arrival — 
but  I  have  my  suspicions.  Just  look  up  over- 
head." 

The  old  man  had  detected  the  hurrying  snow- 
flakes  passing  across  the  face  of  the  sun,  and 
though  to  Uncle  Tom  there  was  nothing  un- 
usual to  be  seen,  the  assayer  understood  the 
signs. 

"  Wind,  Jeff?  "  said  he. 

"And  snow,"  replied  the  old  prospector. 
"  Was  you  going  to  ride  up  on  Cape  Horn  this 
evening,  Mr.  Warren  ?  Well,  if  I  was  you,  I 
wouldn't.  Cape  Horn  lies  south  o'  here,  and  if 
a  storm  from  the  north  catches  you  up  there  on 
that  bare  mountain  you  may  not  be  able  to 
work  your  way  back  again.  If  I  was  you,  I'd 
put  the  ponies  back  in  the  stable  and  lay  low 
for  a  spell." 

"  Thank  you,  Jeff,"  responded  the  assayer. 
"  I  believe  that's  a  good  idea.  I  think  we  shall 
do  well,  Tom,  to   postpone  our  trip.     No  use 


How   Dick  Brought  the  News         95 

running  the  risk  of  being  caught  out  in  a 
bhzzard  :  it's  a  bit  too  dangerous  to  suit  me." 

The  ponies,  therefore,  were  taken  back  to  the 
stable  and  the  two  men,  returning  to  the  house, 
sat  down  on  the  sunny  porch  to  await  develop- 
ments. 

The  snow-cloud  was  already  half  way  down 
the  range  and  it  was  not  long  ere  the  murmur 
of  the  wind  among  the  distant  trees  began  to 
make  itself  heard,  giving  warning  of  what 
was  coming  to  a  few  of  the  more  observant 
people. 

"  It  looks  pretty  threatening,  Sam,"  said 
Uncle  Tom.  "  I  don't  like  the  way  that  cloud 
comes  creeping  down.  I  hope  those  boys  will 
notice  it  in  time." 

"  I  don't  think  you  need  worry  about  them," 
replied  the  assayer.  "  Young  Dick  is  well  able 
to  take  care  of  himself.  He  knows  the  signs  as 
well  as  anybody." 

"Well,  I  hope  he'll  notice  them  in  time. 
Going  indoors,  are  you  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  if  you  don't  mind,  I'll  leave  you  for 
the  present.  I  have  some  work  I  want  to  finish 
up.  Let  me  know  when  it  comes  pretty  close  so 
that  I  may  get  my  windows  shut.  It  will  come 
with  a  *  whoop '  when  it  does  come." 


g6  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

As  the  assay er  rose  to  his  feet,  he  observed 
across  the  street  the  proprietor  of  the  corner  gro- 
cery standing  in  his  doorway  with  his  hands  in 
his  pockets. 

"  Hallo,  Jackson  !  "  he  called  out.  "  You'd 
better  take  in  those  loose  boxes  from  the  side- 
walk if  you  want  to  save  them  :  there's  a  big 
blow  coming  pretty  soon." 

"  Oh,  I  guess  not,"  replied  the  grocer,  a  fat- 
faced,  self-satisfied  man,  one  of  those  "  dead-sure 
weather  prophets  "  for  wdiom  old  Jeff  felt  such 
supreme  contempt.     '•  I  reckon  I'll  chance  it." 

He  cast  a  glance  skyward,  and  deceived  by  the 
sparkling  brilliancy  of  the  sun,  he  added  under 
his  breath,  "  Big  blow  !  As  if  any  one  couldn't 
see  with  half  an  eye  that  there  isn't  a  sign  of 
wind  in  the  sky." 

"  All  right,  Jackson,  suit  yourself,"  replied 
Warren  ;  adding  on  his  part,  as  an  aside  to  Uncle 
Tom,  "  He'll  change  his  mind  in  about  half  an 
hour,  if  I'm  not  mistaken." 

For  about  that  length  of  time  Uncle  Tom  con- 
tinued to  sit  on  the  porch  watching  the  ap- 
proaching cloud  and  listening  to  the  increasing 
murmur  of  the  wdnd,  when,  on  the  crown  of  a 
high  ridge  about  a  mile  above  town  he  saw  all 
the  pine  trees  with  one  accord  suddenly  bend 


How   Dick   Brought  the  News         97 

their  heads  toward  liim,  as  though  making  him 
a  stately  obeisance. 

Springing  out  of  his  chair,  Uncle  Tom  bolted 
into  the  house,  slamming  the  door  behind  him 
and  calling  out  :  "  Here  it  comes,  Sam  !  Here 
it  comes !  " 

It  did.  The  roar  of  its  approach  was  now 
plainly  audible  ;  there  was  a  hurrying  and  scur- 
rying of  men  and  women,  a  banging  of  doors  and 
a  slamming  down  of  windows  ;  even  the  incred- 
ulous grocer,  convinced  at  last,  made  a  dive  for 
his  loose  boxes — but  just  too  late. 

With  a  shriek,  as  of  triumph  at  catching  them 
all  unprepared,  the  wind  came  raging  down  the 
street,  making  a  clean  sweep  of  everything.  A 
young  mining  camp  is  not  as  a  rule  over-partic- 
ular about  the  amount  of  rubbish  that  encumbers 
its  streets,  and  Mosby  was  no  exception  to  the 
rule,  but  in  five  minutes  it  was  swept  as  clean  as 
though  the  twenty-one  housewives  had  been  at 
work  on  it  for  a  week  with  broom  and  scrubbing- 
brush. 

Heralded  by  a  cloud  of  mingled  dust  and 
snow,  a  whole  covey  of  paper  scraps,  loose  straw 
and  a  few  hats,  went  whirling  down  the  street, 
followed  by  a  dozen  or  two  of  empty  tin  cans, 
while  behind  them,  with  infinite  clatter,  came 


98  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

three  lengths  of  stove-pipe  from  the  bakerj^ 
chimney,  closely  pursued  by  an  immense  barrel 
which  had  once  contained  crockery. 

As  though  enjoying  the  fun,  this  barrel  came 
bounding  down  the  roadway,  making  astonish- 
ing leaps,  until,  at  the  grocery  corner,  it  encoun- 
tered the  only  one  of  the  empty  boxes  which  had 
not  already  gone  south,  and  glancing  off  at  an 
angle,  went  bang  through  the  show  window ! 

It  was  as  though  My  Lord,  the  North  Wind, 
aware  of  Mr.  Jackson's  incredulity,  had  sent  an 
emissary  to  convince  him  that  he  did  intend  to 
blow  that  day. 

From  that  moment  the  wind  and  the  snow  had 
it  all  their  own  way  ;  not  a  citizen  dared  to  show 
his  nose  outside. 

It  was  an  uneasy  day  for  Uncle  Tom.  Know- 
ing full  well  the  extreme  danger  of  being  caught 
on  the  mountain  in  such  a  storm,  he  could  not 
help  feeling  anxious  for  our  safety,  and  though 
his  host  tried  to  reassure  him  by  repeating  his 
confidence  in  Dick  Stanley's  good  sense  and  expe- 
rience, he  grew  more  and  more  fidgety  as  the 
day  wore  on  and  darkness  began  to  settle  down 
upon  the  town. 

In  fact,  by  sunset,  Uncle  Tom  had  worked 
himself  up  to  a  high  state  of  nervousness.     He 


How   Dick  Brought  the  News         99 

kept  pacing  up  and  down  the  room  like  a  caged 
beast,  unconsciously  puffing  at  a  cigar  which  had 
gone  out  half  an  hour  before ;  then  striding  to 
the  window  to  look  out — a  disheartening  pros- 
pect, for  not  even  the  corner  grocery  was  visible 
now.  Then  back  he  would  come,  plump  him- 
self into  his  chair  before  the  fire,  only  to  jump 
up  again  in  fifteen  seconds  to  go  through  the 
same  performance  once  more. 

At  length  he  flung  his  cigar-stump  into  the 
fire,  and  turning  to  his  friend,  exclaimed  : 

"  Sam,  I  can't  stand  this  uncertainty  any 
longer.  I'm  going  out  to  see  if  I  can't  find 
somebody  who  will  undertake  to  go  up  to  the 
professor's  house  and  back  for  twenty  dollars, 
just  to  make  sure  those  boys  have  got  safe  home. 
I'd  go  myself,  only  I  know  I  should  never  get 
there." 

The  assayer  shook  his  head. 

"  No  use,  Tom,"  said  he.  "  You  couldn't  get 
one  to  go ;  at  least,  not  for  money.  If  it  were 
to  dig  a  friend  out  of  the  snow  you  could  raise  a 
hundred  men  in  a  minute  ;  but  for  money — no. 
I  don't  believe  you  could  get  any  of  them  to 
face  this  storm  for  twenty  dollars — or  fifty, 
either.  They  would  say,  '  What's  the  use  ?  If 
the  boys  are  in,  they're  in  ;  if  they're  not '  " 


loo  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

"  Well,  if  they're  not What?     I  know 

what  you  mean.  You  chill  me  all  through, 
Sam,  with  your  '  ifs.'  Look  here,  old  man,  isn't 
there  anybody  who  would  go?  Think,  man, 
think  !  " 

"  We  might  try  little  Aleck  Smith,  the 
teamster,"  said  the  assayer,  thoughtfully. 
"  He's  as  tough  as  a  bit  of  bailing-wire  and 
plum  full  of  grit.  We'll  try  him  anyhow. 
Come  on.  I'll  go  with  you.  It's  only  six 
houses  down.  Jump  into  your  overcoat,  old 
man  1 " 

The  two  men  turned  to  get  their  coats,  when, 
at  that  moment,  there  came  a  thump  upon  the 
porch  outside,  as  though  somebody  had  jumped 
up  the  two  steps  at  a  bound,  the  door  burst  open 
and  in  the  midst  of  a  whirl  of  snow  there  was 
blown  into  the  room  the  muffled,  snow-coated 
figure  of  a  boy,  who,  slamming  the  door  behind 
him,  leaned  back  against  it,  gasping  for  breath. 

The  men  stared  in  astonishment,  until  the 
boy,  pulling  off  his  cap,  revealed  the  face,  scar- 
let from  exposure,  of  Dick  Stanley. 

"  Why,  Dick  !  "  cried  the  assayer.  "  What's 
the  matter  ?     Where's  young  Frank  ?  " 

"  All  safe,  sir  !  Safe  in  our  house,  and  in  bed 
and  asleep  by  this  time." 


How   Dick   Brought  the  News       loi 

"  And  did  3^011  come  down  through  this  howl- 
ing storm  to  tell  me  ?  "  cried  Uncle  Tom. 

"  Yes,  sir.  But  that  wasn't  anything  so  very 
much,  you  know  :  it  was  down-hill  and  down- 
wind, too." 

"  Well,  you  may  think  what  j^ou  like  ahout 
it — but  so  may  I,  too  ;  and  my  opinion  is  that 
there  isn't  another  boy  in  the  country  would 
have  done  it.  I  shan't  forget  your  service, 
Dick.  You  may  count  on  that.  I  shan't  for- 
get it !  " 

Nor  did  he— as  you  will  see. 


CHAPTER  VI 

The  Professor's  Story 

WHAT  a  change  had  come  over  the  land- 
scape when,  at  sunrise  next  morning,  I 
jumped  out  of  bed  and  went  to  the  door  to  look 
out.  Though  the  sk}^  was  as  clear  and  as  blue 
as  ever,  though  Mescalero,  swept  bare  by  the 
wind,  looked  much  as  usual,  all  the  lower  parts 
of  the  range,  except  the  crowns  of  the  ridges, 
were  buried  under  the  snow.  The  woods  were 
full  of  it ;  every  hollow  was  leveled  off  so  that 
one  could  hardly  tell  where  it  used  to  be ;  while 
the  narrow  valley  itself  was  ridged  and  fur- 
rowed by  great  drifts  piled  up  by  freaks  of  the 
wind.  It  was  cold,  too,  for  with  the  falling  of 
the  wind  and  the  clearing  of  the  sky  the  tem- 
perature had  dropped  to  zero.  As  so  often  hap- 
pens in  these  parts,  winter  had  arrived  with  a 
bang. 

Closing  the  door,  I  hopped  back  to  the  jolly, 
roaring  fire  of  logs  which  Romero  had  started 
an  hour  before,  and  there  finished  my  dressing. 
While  I  was  thus  engaged,  the  professor  came 


The   Professor's  Story  103 

out  of  the  back  room,  where  it  was  his  custom 
to  sleep — a  queer  choice — with  a  couple  of  thou- 
sand dead  insects  for  company. 

"  Well,  Frank,"  said  he,  cheerily.  "  Here's 
King  Winter  in  all  his  glory.  Rather  a  rough- 
and-tumble  monarch,  isn't  he  ?  When  his 
majesty  makes  his  royal  progress,  we,  his  humble 
subjects,  do  well  to  get  out  of  his  way  and  leave 
the  course  clear  for  him." 

"  That's  true,  sir,"  said  I,  laughing ;  and  fall- 
ing into  the  professor's  humor,  I  added:  "I 
never  met  a  king  before,  and  if  King  Winter  is 
an  example  of  the  race  I  think  we  Americans 
were  wise  to  get  rid  of  them  when  we  did." 

"  Oh,"  replied  the  professor,  *'  you  must  not 
judge  a  whole  order  by  one  specimen  :  there  are 
kings  and  kings,  and  some  of  them  are  very  fine 
fellows.  King  Winter,  though,  is  rather  too 
boisterous  and  inconsiderate  ;  and  to  tell  you  the 
truth,  Frank,  you  had  rather  a  narrow  escape 
from  him  yesterday.  I  did  not  like  to  make 
too  much  of  it  before  Dick  ;  I  did  not  want  him 
to  think  I  blamed  him  for  what  was,  after  all, 
merely  an  oversight ;  but  as  a  matter  of  fact  you 
ran  a  pretty  big  risk,  as  you  may  easily  under- 
stand when  you  see  the  amount  of  snow  that 
fell  in  about  twelve  hours  ;  for  the  storm  ceased 


I04  The  Trail  of  the   Badger 

and  the  sky  cleared  again  about  three  o'clock 
this  morning." 

"  It  was  nip  and  tuck  for  us,  sure  enough," 
said  I ;  "  but  if  our  getting  caught  in  the  storm 
was  any  fault  of  Dick's,  there  is  one  thing  cer- 
tain, sir :  he  got  us  out  of  it  in  great  style.  I 
wouldn't  ask  for  a  better  guide.  I  was  pretty 
badly  scared  myself,  I  don't  mind  owning" — 
the  professor  nodded,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  I 
don't  wonder,"  —  "  but  Dick,"  I  continued, 
"  did  not  seem  to  be  flustered  for  a  moment ;  he 
knew  just  what  to  do  and  pitched  right  in  and 
did  it.  It  seems  to  me,  sir — though  of  course  I 
don't  set  up  to  be  a  judge — that  the  most  ex- 
perienced mountaineer  couldn't  have  done  any 
better." 

"  Dick  is  a  good  boy,"  said  the  professor,  evi- 
dently pleased  at  my  standing  up  for  his  young 
friend  ;  "  and  he  seems  to  have  a  faculty  for 
keeping  his  wits  about  him  in  an  emergency. 
It  has  always  been  so,  ever  since  he  was  a  little 
boy.  I  suppose  he  has  never  told  j^ou,  has  he, 
how  he  once  saved  his  donke}'  from  a  mountain- 
lion  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  I  replied.     "  How  was  it?  " 

"  He  was  about  nine  years  old  at  the  time,  and 
as  his  little  legs  were  too  short  to  enable  him  to 


The   Professor's   Story  105 

keep  up  with  me,  I  had  given  him  a  young 
burro  to  ride.  We  were  camped  one  night  on 
the  Trinchera,  not  far  from  Fort  Garland,  when 
we  were  awakened  by  a  great  squealing  on  the 
part  of  the  donkey,  which  was  tethered  a  few 
feet  away,  and  sitting  up  in  our  beds,  which 
were  on  the  ground  under  the  open  sky,  we  were 
just  in  time  to  see  some  big,  cat-like  animal 
spring  upon  the  poor  little  beast  and  knock  it 
over.  Instead  of  crying  and  crawling  under  the 
blankets,  as  he  might  well  have  been  excused 
for  doing,  little  Dick  sprang  out  of  his  bed — as 
did  I  also.  But  the  youngster  was  twice  as 
quick  as  I  was,  and  without  an  instant's  hesita- 
tion he  seized  a  burning  stick  from  the  fire,  ran 
right  up  to  the  mountain-lion — for  that  was 
what  it  was — and  as  the  snarling  creature  raised 
its  head,  the  plucky  little  chap  thrust  the  hot 
end  of  his  stick  into  its  mouth,  when,  with  a 
yell  of  pain  and  astonishment,  the  beast  let  go 
its  hold  and  fled  like  a  yellow  streak  into  the 
woods  again." 

"  Bully  for  Dick  !  "  I  cried.  "  That  was  pretty 
good,  wasn't  it  ?     And  was  the  donkey  killed  ?  " 

"  No ;  rather  badly  scratched  ;  but  Dick's 
promptness  and  courage  saved  it  from  anything 
more  serious." 


io6  The  Trail  of  the   Badger 

"  Well,  that  was  certainly  pretty  good  for 
such  a  youngster,"  said  I.  "  By  the  way,  sir," 
I  continued,  "  there  is  one  thing  I  should  like 
to  ask  you,  if  you  don't  mind,  about  your  life  in 
the  mountains,  especially  back  in  the  '  sixties ' 
and  earlier,  and  that  is,  how  you  managed  to  es- 
cape being  killed  and  scalped  by  the  Indians." 

My  host  laughed,  and  I  could  see  by  his  face 
that  he  was  thinking  backward,  as  he  slowly 
stirred  his  coffee  round  and  round  ;  for  we  were 
seated  at  our  breakfast,  Romero  serving  us. 

"  That  was  a  serious  question  at  first,"  he  re- 
plied presently,  "  but  I  solved  it  very  early  in 
my  wanderings ;  and  now  I — and  Dick,  too — 
may  go  among  any  of  the  tribes  with  impunity." 

"Will  you  tell  me  about  it,  sir?"  I  asked, 
full  of  curiosity  to  know  how  he  had  worked 
such  a  seeming  miracle. 

The  professor  leaned  back  in  his  chair, 
stretched  out  his  feet  and  folded  his  hands  on 
the  edge  of  the  table. 

"  I  will,  with  pleasure,"  he  replied  ;  "  for  it  is 
rather  a  curious  incident,  I  have  always  thought. 

"  Before  I  took  up  the  profession  of  *  bug- 
hunting,'  as  the  pursuit  of  entomology  is  irrev- 
erently termed  by  the  people  here,  I  had  grad- 
uated as  a  physician — very  fortunately  for  me, 


The  Professor's  Story  107 

as  it  turned  out,  for  my  knowledge  of  medicine 
was  the  basis  of  my  reputation  among  the  In- 
dians. I  was  down  in  Arizona  at  one  time, 
when,  on  coming  to  a  little  Mexican  village,  I 
found  the  poor  people  suffering  from  an  epi- 
demic of  smallpox.  Several  had  died,  and  the 
survivors,  scared  out  of  their  wits,  had  given 
themselves  up  for  lost.  After  my  arrival,  how- 
ever, there  were  no  more  deaths,  I  am  glad  to 
say,  and  by  the  end  of  about  a  month  I  had 
succeeded  in  putting  all  my  patients  on  the 
highroad  to  recovery. 

"  There  was  a  little  adobe  ranch-house  about 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  up-stream  from  the  village, 
the  owner  of  which  had  died  before  my  arrival, 
and  this  building  I  had  utilized  as  a  pest-house. 
I  was  on  my  way  out  to  it  one  morning,  with 
my  little  case  of  medicines  in  my  hand,  when 
I  heard  behind  me  a  great  crying  out  among 
the  villagers,  and  looking  back  I  saw  them  all 
scuttling  for  shelter,  at  the  same  time  shouting 
and  screaming,  according  to  their  age  and  sex, 
'  Apache  !    Apache  ! ' 

"  The  next  moment,  right  through  the  middle 
of  the  village,  riding  like  a  whirlwind,  came 
ten  horsemen,  who,  paying  no  attention  to  the 
frightened    Mexicans,    made    straight    for   me. 


io8  The  Trail  of  the   Badger 

Doubtless  they  had  been  hiding  in  the  creek- 
bed  among  the  willows  since  daylight,  awaiting 
their  opportunity  to  dash  out  and  capture  me — 
for,  as  I  found  later,  it  was  I  whom  they  were 
after. 

"  To  run  was  useless,  to  fight  impossible,  as  I 
was  unarmed,  so,  there  being  nothing  else  to  do, 
I  just  stood  still  and  waited  for  them.  In  a 
moment  I  was  surrounded,  when  one  of  the 
Indians  sprang  from  his  horse  and  advanced 
upon  me.  He  had,  as  I  very  well  remember, 
his  nose  painted  a  bright  green — a  fearsome 
object.  This  apparition  came  striding  toward 
me,  and  I  supposed  I  was  to  be  killed  and 
scalped  forthwith ;  but  instead,  my  friend  of 
the  green  nose,  in  halting  Spanish,  and  with  a 
deference  which  was  as  welcome  as  it  was  unex- 
pected, explained  to  me  that  the  fame  of  the 
great  white  medicine-man  had  extended  far  and 
wide ;  that  the  smallpox  was  ravaging  their  vil- 
lage ;  and  that  they  had  come  to  beg  me  to 
return  with  them  and  drive  out  the  enemy. 

"  Greatly  relieved  to  find  that  their  mission 
was  peaceful,  I  replied  at  once  that  I  would 
come  with  pleasure,  provided  I  were  treated 
with  the  respect  due  to  my  quality,  but  that  I 
must  first  visit  the  pest-house  and  leave  direc- 


The  Professor's  Story  109 

tions  for  the  care  of  my  two  remaining  patients. 
To  this — rather  to  my  surprise — they  readily 
consented,  relying  implicitly  upon  my  promise 
to  accompany  them  ;  an  instance  of  trustfulness 
from  which  I  could  only  infer,  I  regret  to  say, 
that  they  had  had  but  little  intercourse  with 
white  men. 

"  The  Indians  had  brought  a  horse  for  me, 
and  after  a  long  two-days'  ride  into  the  moun- 
tains, we  reached  the  camp,  consisting  of  about 
twenty  lodges,  where  I  found  matters  in  pretty 
bad  condition.  I  went  to  work  vigorously,  how- 
ever, and  again  had  the  good  fortune  to  rout 
the  enemy  Avithout  the  loss  of  a  patient ;  thereby, 
as  you  may  suppose,  gaining  the  lasting  good 
will  of  every  member  of  the  tribe — with  one 
exception. 

"  This  exception — rather  an  important  one — 
was  the  local  medicine-man,  who,  having  vainly 
endeavored  to  drive  out  the  plague  by  the  appli- 
cation of  bad  smells  and  worse  noises,  was  not 
unnaturally  consumed  with  jealousy  of  my  supe- 
rior success,  and  with  the  desire  to  discover  what 
charms  and  spells  I  used  to  that  end. 

"  On  our  way  up  from  the  Mexican  settlement 
I  had  several  times  stopped  to  note  the  direction 
with  a  little  pocket-compass  I  always  carried 


iio  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

about  with  me,  on  each  of  which  occasions  I 
had  observed  that  the  medicine-man,  who  was 
one  of  the  party,  had  eyed  the  little  instrument 
with  a  sort  of  fearful  curiosity.  Later,  when 
my  patients  were  all  getting  well,  I  had  several 
times  gone  out  to  a  distance  from  the  camp  and 
with  the  compass  taken  the  bearings  of  the 
many  mountain  peaks  visible  in  all  directions, 
making  a  little  map  of  the  country.  Every 
time  I  did  this,  the  medicine-man  was  sure  to 
come  stalking  by,  watching  my  motions  out  of 
the  corner  of  his  eye.  On  one  such  occasion  I 
called  him  to  me,  anxious  to  be  on  friendly 
terms,  and  showing  him  the  instrument,  tried 
to  explain  its  use.  But  the  Indian,  seeing 
through  the  glass  the  unaccountable  motion  of 
the  needle,  was  afraid  to  touch  it,  and  my  ex- 
planation, I  fear,  had  rather  the  effect  of  mis- 
leading him,  for  his  knowledge  of  Spanish  was 
very  small,  while  my  knowledge  of  Apache  was 
smaller,  and  eventually  he  went  off  with  the 
idea  that  the  compass,  which  I  had  tried  to 
make  him  understand  was  my  '  guide,'  '  di- 
rector '  and  so  forth,  was  in  fact  nothing  more 
nor  less  than  the  familiar  spirit  through  whose 
aid  I  had  ousted  the  evil  spirit  of  the  smallpox. 
"  With  this  conviction  in  his  mind,  and  sup- 


The   Professor's  Story  1 1  i 

posing  that  the  possession  of  the  compass  would 
confer  upon  him  similar  powers,  he  screwed  up 
his  courage  to  steal  it — and  a  very  courageous 
act  it  was,  too,  I  consider,  remembering  how 
greatly  he  stood  in  fear  of  it. 

"  It  was  on  the  eve  of  my  departure  that  I 
discovered  my  loss,  and  going  straight  to  my 
friend  with  the  green  nose  I  informed  him  of 
the  fact,  at  the  same  time  stating  my  conviction 
that  the  medicine-man  was  the  thief.  He  was 
very  wroth  that  his  guest  should  have  been  so 
treated  after  having  rendered  such  good  service 
to  the  community,  but  feeling  some  diffidence 
about  seizing  and  searching  his  medicine-man, 
of  whom  he  was  rather  afraid,  he  suggested  that 
I  concoct  a  spell  which  should  induce  the  thief 
to  disgorge  his  plunder  of  his  own  accord  ;  a 
course  which  would  doubtless  be  a  simple 
matter  to  a  high-class  magician  like  myself. 

"  This  was  rather  embarrassing.  I  did  not  at 
all  like  to  trust  to  the  tricks  of  the  charlatan, 
but  being  unable  to  devise  any  other  plan  by 
which  to  recover  my  compass,  an  instrument 
indispensable  to  me,  and  impossible  to  replace, 
in  that  wild  country,  I  determined  to  employ  a 
device  I  had  once  read  of  as  having  been  adopted 
by   an    officer    in   the   East   India   Company's 


112  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

service  to  detect  a  thieving  Sepoy  soldier.  Even 
then  I  should  not  have  resorted  to  such  a 
measure  had  I  not  felt  convinced  that  the 
medicine-man  was  the  thief,  and  that  his  super- 
stitious dread  of  my  powers  would  cause  him  to 
fall  into  my  trap. 

"  I  therefore  desired  Green  Nose  to  summon 
all  the  men  of  the  village,  which  being  done,  I 
addressed  them  through  him  as  interpreter.  I 
told  them  that  one  of  their  number  was  a  thief, 
and  that  I  was  about  to  find  out  which  one  it 
was — a  statement  which  I  could  see  had  an  im- 
pressive effect. 

"  Taking  two  straws  of  wild  rye,  I  cut  them 
to  exactly  equal  lengths,  and  then,  holding 
them  up  so  that  all  might  see,  I  announced  that 
the  men  were  to  come  forward,  one  at  a  time, 
take  one  of  the  straws,  step  inside  my  lodge  for 
a  few  seconds,  and  then  bring  back  the  straw  to 
me.  To  those  who  were  innocent  nothing 
would  happen,  *  but,'  said  I,  with  menacing 
fore-finger,  'when  the  thief  brings  back  the 
straw  it  will  be  found  to  have  groivn  one 
inch ! ' 

"  I  waited  a  minute  to  allow  this  announce- 
ment to  have  its  full  effect,  and  then  requested 
that,  in   deference  to  his   exalted  position,  my 


The  Professor's  Story  1 1  3 

honored  brother,  the  medicine-man,  should  be 
the  tirst  to  test  the  potency  of  my  magic. 

"  I  could  see  that  he  was  very  reluctant  to  do 
any  such  thing,  but  to  decline  would  be  to  draw 
suspicion  on  himself,  so,  stepping  from  the  line, 
he  received  the  straw  and  retired  with  it  to  my 
lodge. 

"  There  was  a  minute  of  breathless  suspense, 
when  back  he  came  and  handed  over  his  straw 
to  me.  My  own  straw,  together  with  the  hand 
which  held  it,  I  had  covered  with  a  large, 
spotted  silk  handkerchief,  in  such  a  manner 
that  it  was  concealed  from  view,  and  slipping 
the  medicine-man's  straw  into  the  same  hand, 
I  perceived  at  once  that  the  thief  had  betrayed 
himself,  just  as  1  had  hoped  and  expected  he 
would. 

"  Casting  a  glance  along  the  line  of  silent  In- 
dians, and  noting  that  they  were  all  attention, 
I  withdrew  the  handkerchief  and  held  up  the 
two  straws.  One  of  them  was  an  inch  longer 
than  the  other ! 

**  In  spite  of  their  habitual  stoicism,  there  was 
a  murmur  and  a  stir  along  the  line  ;  but  the 
greatest  effect  was  naturally  upon  the  poor 
medicine-man.  Thrusting  his  hand  into  his 
bosom,  he  drew  out  the  compass  from  under  his 


114  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

shirt,  handed  it  to  me,  and  then,  pulling  his 
blanket  over  his  head,  he  crept  away  without  a 
word  and  shut  himself  up  in  his  lodge." 

"But  how  did  you  do  it?"  I  interrupted. 
"  How  did  his  straw  come  out  longer  than  the 
other?  Did  you  break  off  a  piece  from  your 
own?" 

*' No,"  replied  the  professor,  smiling;  '*it  was 
the  medicine-man  who  broke  off  a  piece  from 
his.  Knowing  himself  to  be  the  thief,  and  fully 
believing  that  the  straw  would  grow  in  his  hand, 
he  no  sooner  got  into  the  shelter  of  my  lodge 
than  he  bit  off  an  inch  from  his  straw,  thus 
making  sure,  as  he  supposed,  that  its  super- 
natural growth  would  bring  it  back  to  its  origi- 
nal length.  It  was  just  what  I  had  expected 
him  to  do.  Nobody  but  myself,  of  course, 
could  tell  which  straw  was  which,  and  when  I 
held  them  up  to  view,  one  longer  than  the  other, 
the  whole  assembly  never  doubted  for  an  instant 
that  the  shorter  one  was  mine  and  that  it  was 
the  thief's  straw  that  had  grown — least  of  all 
the  medicine-man,  himself. 

"He,  poor  fellow,  conscious  of  guilt,  and  be- 
ing himself  a  dealer  in  charms  and  incantations, 
was  more  than  anybody  in  a  proper  frame  of 
mind  to  put  faith  in  my  magic,  and  when  he 


The   Professor's  Story  1 1 5 

saw,  as  he  supposed,  that  his  straw,  in  spite  of 
his  precautions,  had  grown  the  promised  inch, 
he  collapsed  at  once  ;  and  thinking,  very  likely, 
that  it  was  the  compass  itself  that  had  betrayed 
him,  he  handed  it  back  to  me  very  willingly, 
glad  to  be  rid  of  so  pernicious  a  little  imp." 

**  And  was  that  the  end  of  the  matter?"  I 
asked. 

"  Yes,  that  was  the  end  of  it.  Being  all  ready 
to  go,  I  went,  leaving  behind  me  a  reputation 
which  was  to  be  of  great  service  to  me  on  many 
a  subsequent  occasion  ;  a  reputation  due,  I  am 
sorry  to  say,  very  much  more  to  the  clap-trap 
trick  played  upon  the  poor  medicine-man  than 
upon  my  really  meritorious  service  in  dealing 
with  the  smallpox  epidemic.  My  fame  gradually 
extended  among  all  the  mountain  tribes,  and 
since  then  I  have  been  free  to  go  anywhere  with 
the  assurance  not  only  of  safety  but  of  welcome 
from  any  of  the  Indians,  Apache,  Ute  or  Navajo 
— a  condition  of  affairs  which,  as  you  will  read- 
ily understand  has  been  of  infinite  service  to  me 
during  my  twenty  years  of  wandering. 

"  Ah  !  "  casting  a  glance  out  of  the  window  as 
he  rose  from  the  table.  "  Here  comes  Dick,  and 
somebody  with  him  ;  a  stranger  to  me — your 
uncle,  I  presume." 


R' 


CHAPTER  VII 

Dick's  Diplomacy 

UNNING  to  the  door,  I  saw  Dick  striding 
down  toward  the  cabin,  while  behind  him 
on  a  stout  pony  rode  Uncle  Tom.  Just  as  I 
stepped  out,  the  pair  approached  one  of  the 
drifts  of  snow  which  ridged  the  valley,  and  into 
this  Dick  plunged  at  once.  Though  it  was  up 
to  his  waist,  he  pretty  soon  forced  his  way 
through,  when  it  was  Uncle  Tom's  turn. 

Evidently  it  was  not  the  first  time  the  pony 
had  tackled  a  snow-drift,  for  he  showed  no  dis-. 
position  to  shirk  the  task,  but  wading  in  up  to 
his  knees,  he  did  the  rest  of  the  passage  in  a 
series  of  short  leaps,  very  like  buck-jumping ;  a 
mode  of  progression  extremely  discomforting  to 
his  plump,  short-legged  rider. 

"  Oh  !  Ah  !  "  gasped  Uncle  Tom  at  each  jump. 
"  Heavens  !  What  a  country  !  Dick,  you  imp  of 
darkness,  1  thought  you  said  it  was  an  easy 
trail." 

At  this  I  could  not  help  laughing,  when  Uncle 
ii6 


Dick's  Diplomacy  117 

Tom,  wlio  had  not  perceived  me  before,  trans- 
ferred his  attention  to  me. 

"  You  young  scamp,  Frank  !  "  cried  he,  shak- 
ing his  fist  at  me  as  I  ran  forward  to  meet  him. 
"  This  is  a  nice  way  to  treat  your  respected 
uncle — first  scare  him  half  to  death  and  then 
laugh  at  him.  Lucky  for  me  there's  only  one 
of  you  :  if  you  had  been  born  twins  I  should 
have  been  worn  to  a  rag  long  ago.  How  are 
you,  old  fellow  ?  "  he  went  on,  reaching  down 
to  shake  hands  with  me.  "  Any  the  worse  for 
your  adventure?  " 

"  Not  a  bit,"  I  replied.  "  Sound  as  a  bell, 
thank  you." 

"  Thank  Dick,  you  mean.  I'll  tell  you  what, 
Frank,"  he  continued,  leaning  down  and  whis- 
pering ;  Dick  having  walked  on  toward  the 
house  :  "  that's  an  uncommonly  fine  young  fel- 
low, in  my  opinion.  His  coming  down  in  the 
storm  last  night  to  tell  me  that  you  were  all  safe 
was  a  thing  that  few  boys  of  his  age  would  have 
done  and  fewer  still  would  have  thought  of 
doing.  Ah  !  This  is  the  professor,  I  suppose. 
Why,  I've  seen  him  before  !  " 

So  saying,  Uncle  Tom  jumped  to  the  ground, 
and  hastening  forward,  held  out  his  hand,  ex- 
claiming : 


1 1 8  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

"  How  are  you,  Herr  Bergen  ?  I'm  glad  to 
meet  you  again.  We  are  old  acquaintances, 
though  I  had  forgotten  your  name,  if  I  ever 
heard  it." 

"  I  believe  you  are  right,  Mr,  Allen,"  re- 
sponded the  professor.  '*  Your  face  seems  fa- 
miliar, though  I  am  ashamed  to  say  I  cannot 
recall  when  or  where  we  met." 

"  I  can  remind  you,"  said  Uncle  Tom.  "  It 
was  at  Fort  Garland,  six  or  seven  years  ago.  I 
was  on  my  way  to  investigate  an  alleged  gold 
discovery  in  the  Taos  mountains,  when  you  rode 
into  the  fort  to  ask  the  cavalry  vet  to  give  you 
something  to  dress  the  wounds  of  a  burro  which 
had  been  clawed  by  a  mountain-lion.  I  got 
into  conversation  with  you,  and  learning  that 
you  also  wanted  some  cartridges  for  a  little  Bal- 
lard rifle,  I  gave  you  a  box  of  fifty.  Do  you 
remember  ?  " 

"  I  remember  very  well,"  replied  the  professor. 
"  The  cartridges  were  for  Dick  :  he  learned 
to  shoot  with  a  Ballard.  Well,  this  is  a  great 
pleasure  to  meet  an  old  acquaintance  like  this. 
Come  in  out  of  the  cold.  Romero  will  take 
your  pony." 

Soon  we  were  all  seated  before  the  fire,  Uncle 
Tom  puffing  away  his  aches  and  pains  with  the 


Dick's   Diplomacy  119 

smoke  of  the  inevitable  cigar,  when  the  pro- 
fessor, turning  to  him,  asked  : 

"  And  how  long  do  you  intend  to  stay  in 
camp,  Mr.  Allen?  Will  this  snow  drive  you 
out?" 

"  Not  at  all,"  replied  Uncle  Tom.  "  I  expect 
to  be  here  a  couple  of  weeks,  in  spite  of  the 
snow.  The  drifts  will  settle  in  a  day  or  two, 
and  the  miners  will  break  trails  to  their  claims, 
and  then  I  shall  be  able  to  get  about — there 
won't  be  any  difficulty.  Though  if  it  were 
going  to  be  as  hard  work  as  it  was  coming  up 
here  this  morning  I  might  as  well  go  home 
again  at  once — it  took  us  an  hour  to  make  the 
one  mile  from  town." 

"  You  came  to  inspect  the  mines,  I  under- 
stand. Do  you  confine  yourself  to  silver  mines, 
or  do  you  deal  in  mines  of  all  sorts  ?  " 

"  Silver  and  gold,"  replied  Uncle  Tom. 
"  Though,  as  it  happens,  I  am  on  the  lookout 
this  time  for  a  copper  mine  as  well.  Before  I 
left  St.  Louis  I  notified  a  Boston  firm,  with 
whom  I  have  frequent  dealings,  of  my  intention 
to  come  here,  and  received  from  them  in  reply 
a  telegram,  saying,  '  Find  us  a  good  copper 
mine.  Price  no  object.'  There  was  no  explana- 
tion, and  I  am  rather  puzzled  to  understand  why 


I20  The  Trail   of  the   Badger 

they  should  suddenly  branch  out  into  '  coppers ' 
in  this  way." 

"  I  expect  the  explanation  is  simple  enough," 
remarked  the  professor. 

"  What  is  it,  then  ?  "  asked  Uncle  Tom. 

"  To  any  one  watching  the  progress  of  sci- 
ence," replied  the  professor,  puffing  away  at  his 
big  porcelain  pipe,  "  even  to  me,  here  on  the 
ragged  edge  of  civilization,  it  is  obvious  that  a 
new  era  is  close  at  hand  ;  a  new  force  rapidly 
coming  to  the  front." 

"  Electricity  ?  "  asked  Uncle  Tom. 

"  Yes,  electricity.  The  science  is  still  in  the 
eggy  as  you  may  say,  but  to  those  who  have  ears 
to  hear,  the  shell  is  beginning  to  crack.  I  am 
convinced  that  before  long  we  shall  be  lighting 
our  streets  with  electricity  and  using  it  in  a 
thousand  ways  as  a  mechanical  power.  The 
consequence  will  be  an  immense  increase  in  the 
demand  for  copper  ;  and  that,  I  have  no  doubt, 
is  why  you  have  been  asked  to  look  out  for  a 
copper  mine  :  they  want  to  be  ready  when  the 
time  comes.     What  is  this,  Dick  ?  " 

At  the  first  mention  of  the  words,  "  copper 
mine,"  the  thoughts  of  Dick  and  myself  had,  of 
course,  instantly  reverted  to  the  King  Philip 
mine,  and  I  was  on  the  point  of  introducing  the 


Dick's   Diplomacy  121 

subject,  when  Dick,  catching  my  eye,  signed  to 
me  to  keep  quiet.  Rising  from  his  chair,  he 
stepped  softly  to  the  rack  where  the  rifles  hung 
and  took  down  the  Mexican's  arrow,  which  he 
had  put  there  the  evening  before.  It  happened 
that  we  had  not  mentioned  the  episode  of  the 
wolves  and  the  Mexican  when  describing  to  the 
professor  our  struggle  homeward  through  the 
snow-storm,  and  consequently,  when  my  com- 
panion laid  the  arrow  on  the  table  close  to  his 
elbow,  it  was  only  natural  that  the  old  gentle- 
man should  exclaim,  ''  What  is  this,  Dick?" 

Very  briefly,  Dick  related  how  he  had  come 
by  it,  merely  stating  that  we  had  seen  a  Mexican 
shoot  a  wolf;  that  the  Mexican  had  run  away 
when  we  hailed  him  ;  and  that  we  had  gone  and 
picked  up  his  arrow.  I  wondered  rather  why 
he  did  not  call  attention  to  the  copper  arrow- 
head ;  but  Dick  knew  what  he  was  about,  as  I 
very  soon  saw  :  he  intended  to  let  the  professor 
discover  it  for  himself,  which  a  man  of  his  hab- 
its of  close  observation  was  certain  to  do.  In 
fact,  the  old  gentleman  had  no  sooner  taken  the 
arrow  into  his  hands  than  he  exclaimed  : 

**  Why,  this  arrow-head  is  made  of  copper  !  A 
Mexican,  you  say?  Then  he  probably  came 
from  Hermanos.     You  remember,  Dick,  how  all 


122  The  Trail  of  the   Badger 

the  people  down  there Why,  Mr.  Allen, 

here's  the  very  thing  !  You  want  a  copper  mine  ? 
Well,  here  is  a  copper  mine  all  ready  to  3'our 
hand  !     All  you  have  to  do  is " 

"To  find  it,"  interjected  Dick,  laughing. 

"  That  is  true,"  the  professor  assented,  laugh- 
ing himself.  "  I  had  forgotten  that  little  par- 
ticular for  the  moment,  Dick.  I'm  afraid  it  is 
not  quite  so  ready  to  your  hand  as  I  was  leading 
you  to  suppose,  Mr.  Allen  ;  but  that  it  is  there, 
somewhere  in  the  Dos  Hermanos  mountains,  I 
feel  sure." 

Thereupon  the  professor  proceeded  to  tell  the 
story  that  Dick  had  already  told  me,  giving  some 
further  details  of  the  information  he  had  derived 
from  the  Spanish  gentleman,  Don  Blake. 

"  It  appears  to  have  been  a  mine  of  some  con- 
sequence," said  the  professor.  "  The  records  cov- 
ered a  period  of  fifteen  years,  and  during  the  last 
five  years  of  the  time  the  shipments  were  con- 
stant and  large.  It  is  fairly  sure,  I  think,  that 
the  product  was  native  copper " 

"Sure  to  be,"  interrupted  Uncle  Tom.  "It 
would  never  have  paid  to  ship  any  waste  product 
so  far.  In  fact,  I  am  surprised  that  they  should 
ship  even  native  copper  such  a  long  distance." 

"  Yes ;  but  as  they  did  so,  I  think  the  infer- 


Dick's   Diplomacy  123 

ence  is  that  the  metal  was  plentiful  and  easy  to 
mine." 

"  That  is  a  reasonable  assumption,"  said  Uncle 
Tom,  thoughtfully  nodding  his  head.  "  What 
beats  me,  though,"  he  went  on,  "  is  that  the 
memory  of  the  spot  should  have  been  so  totall}^ 
lost.  Considering  that  the  mine  was  producing 
for  fifteen  years,  there  must  be  many  traces  of 
the  work  done,  such  as  the  waste  dump,  the  old 
road  or  trail,  and  so  forth  :  you  can't  run  a  mine 
for  that  length  of  time  and  leave  no  marks.  It 
is  a  wonder  to  me  that  the  place  has  never  been 
rediscovered." 

"  I  don't  think  there  is  anything  surprising  in 
that,"  replied  the  professor.  "  The  villagers  of 
Hermanos,  agricultural  people,  seldom  go  five 
miles  from  home  ;  it  is  only  old  Galvez'  vaqueros, 
his  cow-men,  who  would  be  likely  to  come  across 
the  traces  of  mining,  and  if  they  did,  those  peons 
are  such  incurious,  unenterprising  people  they 
would  pay  no  attention.  Besides  which,  I  gath- 
ered that  even  the  cow-men  never  went  up  into 
the  Dos  Hermanos  mountains  :  it  is  not  a  good 
cattle  countr}^ — rough  granite  and  limestone,  lit- 
tle water  and  scant  pasturage.  Consequently, 
the  cattle  range  southward  toward  the  Santa 
Claras,  instead  of  westward  to  the  Dos  Hermanos, 


124  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

and  the  Twin  Peaks,  therefore,  remain  in  their 
solitary  glory,  untouched  by  the  foot  of  man  ; 
and  probably  they  have  so  remained  ever  since 
the  King  Philip  mine  was  abandoned,  a  hundred 
and  fifty  years  ago." 

For  a  full  minute  Uncle  Tom  remained  silent, 
thoughtfully  blowing  out  long  spirals  of  cigar 
smoke,  but  presently  he  roused  up  again  and 
said  : 

"  There  is  one  thing  more  I  should  like  to  ask 
you.  Professor,  and  that  is,  why  you  conclude 
that  the  King  Philip  mine  is  in  the  Dos  Her- 
manos  mountains?  " 

"  For  this  reason,"  replied  our  friend  :  "  In 
the  first  place,  many  of  the  reports  were  dated 
from  the  Casa  del  Rey.  Of  course,  it  is  likely 
enough  that  there  are  other  Casas  del  Rey  in 
other  parts  of  the  country,  but  besides  the  fre- 
quent mention  of  the  King's  House,  there  was 
also  mention  of  Indian  fights  at  different  places  : 
'  at  the  crossing  of  the  Perdita,'  for  instance,  and 
'  near  the  spring  by  Picture  Buttes  '  ;  then  there 
was  the  record  of  a  snow-blockade  on  the  Mosca 
Pass,  in  the  Santa  Claras  ;  another  of  a  terrible 
dust-storm  on  the  Little  Cactus  Desert,  'with 
the  loss  of  one  man  and  three  mules ' ;  and  so 
forth.     Now,  a  line  running  through  these  and 


Dick's   Diplomacy  125 

other  places  mentioned  would  bring  you  into 
the  Mescalero  valley  at  its  southern  end,  and 
there  is  no  doubt  in  my  mind  that  the  Casa  del 
Rey  named  in  the  reports  is  the  King's  House 
down  there  at  Hermanos." 

"It  does  seem  so,  doesn't  it?"  responded 
Uncle  Tom.  *'  Look  here,  professor,"  he  went 
on,  suddenly  jumping  out  of  his  chair  and  cast- 
ing his  cigar  stump  into  the  fire,  "  I  must  make 
an  attempt  to  find  that  copper  mine.  It  does, 
as  you  say,  seem  all  ready  to  my  hand.  But 
how  to  do  it,  is  the  question.  I  can't  go  my- 
self— can't  spare  the  time — so  the  only  way,  I 
suppose,  is  to  hire  some  prospector,  if  I  can." 

"  I  don't  think  you  can  get  one,"  said  the 
professor,  shaking  his  head  ;  "  at  least,  not  here 
in  Mosby.  They  are  all  too  intent  on  hunting 
for  silver,  and  I  doubt  if  you  could  persuade  one 
of  them  to  waste  a  season  in  searching  for  a 
metal  so  commonplace  as  copper,  the  value  of 
which  is  rather  prospective  than  immediate. 
I  doubt  very  much  if  you  could  get  one 
to  go." 

"  I  suppose  not,"  replied  Uncle  Tom.  "  And 
you  can  hardly  blame  them,  either,  when  you 
consider  that  by  the  expenditure  of  the  same 
amount  of  labor  a  man  may  come  across  a  rich 


126  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

vein  of  silver,  every  ounce  of  which  he  knows 
to  be  worth  a  dollar  and  twenty  cents." 

"  Just  so,"  the  professor  assented. 

"  What  am  I  to  do,  then?  "  asked  Uncle  Tom. 
"  Give  it  up  ?  Seems  a  pity,  doesn't  it,  when, 
more  than  likely,  the  old  workings  are  lying 
there  plain  to  view,  only  waiting  for  some  one 
with  his  eyes  open  to  pass  that  way.  Still,  if  I 
can't  get  a  man " 

"  Take  a  boy,"  suggested  Dick,  cutting  in  un- 
expectedly. 

Uncle  Tom  whirled  round  on  his  heels  and 
stared  at  him  ;  the  professor  removed  his  long 
pipe  from  his  mouth  and  stared  at  him  too ; 
while  Dick  himself  sat  bolt  upright  in  his  chair, 
a  broad  and  genial  grin  overspreading  his  coun- 
tenance. 

For  some  seconds  they  all  maintained  these 
attitudes  in  silence,  when  Uncle  Tom  suddenly 
broke  into  a  hearty  laugh. 

"  You  young  scamp !  "  cried  he,  shaking  his 
forefinger  at  Dick.  "  I  believe  that's  what 
you've  been  aiming  at  all  the  time." 

"  That's  just  what  we  have,  Mr.  Allen,"  re- 
plied my  companion.  "  Frank  and  I  were  talk- 
ing about  it  yesterday,  saying  what  fun  it  would 
be  to  go  and  hunt  for  the  old  mine ;  though  we 


Dick's   Diplomacy  127 

never  expected  to  get  the  chance.  But  when 
you  began  to  talk  about  copper  mines,  we  cocked 
our  ears,  of  course,  thinking  that  here,  perhaps, 
was  a  chance  after  all — and — and  if  you  can't 
get  a  man,  Mr.  Allen,  why  not  send  a  boy  ? 
Would  you  let  me  go,  Professor  ?  " 

Our  two  elders  looked  at  each  other,  and  very 
anxiously  we  looked  at  our  two  elders.  Not  a 
word  did  either  of  them  say,  until  the  professor, 
rising  from  his  chair  and  knocking  out  the 
ashes  of  his  pipe  upon  the  hearthstone,  remarked 
quietly  : 

"  Go  out  and  chop  some  wood,  boys.  I  want 
to  talk  to  Mr.  Allen." 

Regarding  this  order  as  a  hopeful  sign,  out  we 
went,  and  for  a  long  half-hour  we  feverishly 
hacked  at  the  heap  of  poles  outside,  making  a 
rather  indifferent  job  of  it,  I  suspect,  until  a  tap- 
ping at  the  window  attracted  our  attention  and 
we  saw  Uncle  Tom  beckoning  us  to  come  in. 

How  anxiously  we  scanned  their  countenances 
this  time,  any  one  will  guess.  Both  men  were 
standing  with  their  backs  to  the  fire.  Uncle  Tom 
smoking  a  fresh  cigar  and  the  professor  puffing 
away  again  at  his  pipe,  both  of  them  looking  so 
solemn  that  I  thought  to  myself,  **  It's  no  go," 
and    my  spirits   fell  accordingly  ;  but  looking 


128  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

again  at  Uncle  Tom  I  detected  a  twitching  at 
the  corner  of  his  mouth  which  sent  them  up 
again  with  a  bound. 

"  Well,  Uncle  Tom  !  "  I  cried.  "  What's  it  to 
be?" 

"  It  is  a  serious  matter,"  replied  my  guardian, 
with  all  the  solemnity  of  a  judge  passing  sen- 
tence. "  The  professor  and  I  have  discussed  it 
very  earnestly,  and  we  have  decided — that  you 
shall  go  I  " 


CHAPTER  VIII 

The  Start 

T^HE  delight  with  which  this  announcement 
-■-  was  received  by  us  two  boys  may  be  im- 
agined, for  though  we  had  hoped  for  such  a 
decision  we  had  not  dared  to  expect  it.  I,  for 
my  part,  had  feared  that  the  matter  of  my  in- 
terrupted education  alone  would  form  an  insur- 
mountable barrier  ;  and  indeed  it  was  that  sub- 
ject which  had  proved  the  chief  obstacle,  as 
Uncle  Tom  presently  informed  me.  All  the 
other  objections  were  minor  ones  and  we  dis- 
creetly refrained  from  asking  for  their  recapitu- 
lation lest,  in  going  over  them  again,  something 
not  thought  of  before  should  crop  up  to  inter- 
fere. We  were  quite  content  to  accept  the 
decision  without  knowing  how  it  had  been 
arrived  at. 

As  to  my  interrupted  schooling,  though,  that 
was  a  serious  matter,  as  Uncle  Tom,  in  spite 
of  his  original  ideas  about  education,  clearly 
understood. 

"  The  main  question  with  me,  you  see,  Frank," 
129 


130  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

said  he,  "  was  whether  you  would  benefit  or 
otherwise  by  missing  so  much  schooling,  and 
though  I  believe  pretty  strongly  in  the  value  of 
learning  by  practice  and  experience,  I  should 
have  felt  obliged  to  decide  against  this  expedi- 
tion if  the  professor  had  not  come  to  the  rescue. 
It  is  to  him  you  owe  our  decision  to  let  you 
boys  go." 

I  looked  gratefully  at  Herr  Bergen,  who 
serenely  waved  the  stem  of  his  pipe  in  our 
direction,  though  whether  to  intimate  that  the 
obligation  was  nothing  to  speak  of,  or  as  a  sign 
to  Uncle  Tom  to  go  on,  I  could  not  decide. 

"  I  find,"  continued  the  latter,  "  that  the  win- 
ter is  Dick's  school-time ;  and  the  professor  has 
offered  to  take  you  in,  Frank,  and  let  you  share 
in  Dick's  work,  undertaking  to  bring  you  on  in 
your  mathematics  in  particular — which  is  your 
weak  spot,  you  know.  In  the  spring,  when  the 
snow  clears  off,  you  are  to  start  for  the  Dos 
Hermanos  and  make  a  thorough  search  for  this 
old  copper  mine  ;  and  as  you  will  be  doing  it  on 
my  account,  I  shall  bear  all  expenses.  There, 
that  is  all,  except — well,  it  is  not  necessary  to 
mention  that — but  I  was  going  to  say  that  I 
rely  on  3^ou,  old  fellow,  to  make  the  most  of 
your  opportunity  and   in   your  own  person  to 


The  Start  i  3 1 

prove  the  correctness  of  my  theory  that  a  boy 
may  sometimes  learn  more  out  of  school  than 
in  it." 

"  I  believe  you  may  count  on  me,  Uncle 
Tom,"  said  1.  "  I'll  do  my  level  best.  And  I'm 
tremendously  obliged  to  you,  Herr  Bergen " 

"  Not  at  all,"  interrupted  the  professor,  "  not 
at  all.  The  fact  is,  I  am  ver}^  glad  to  have  a 
companion  for  Dick  ;  and  as  to  the  schooling, 
the  obligation  is  not  all  on  one  side  by  any 
means,  for  to  me  it  is  one  of  the  greatest  pleas- 
ures possible  to  teach  a  boy  who  really  desires 
to  learn.     I  anticipate  a  most  pleasant  winter." 

Thus  was  this  odd  arrangement  made  by  which 
I,  who  by  right  should  have  been  attending  a 
public  school  in  St.  Louis,  became  the  private 
pupil  of  an  eminent  German  professor,  pursuing 
my  studies  in  a  little  log  cabin  tucked  away  in 
a  snow-encumbered  valley  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains— about  as  queer  a  piece  of  topsyturviness, 
to  my  notion,  as  ever  happened  to  a  boy,  and 
one  very  unlikely  to  happen  to  any  other  boy, 
unless  he  chanced  to  be  endowed  with  an  Uncle 
Tom  cut  out  on  the  same  pattern  as  mine. 

"There's  one  thing,  Frank,"  said  my  guardian, 
as  we  made  our  way  down  to  camp  later  in  the 
day,  "  there's   one   thing  I  didn't  mention  in 


132  The  Trail  of  the   Badger 

Dick's  presence,  and  that  is  that  the  professor 
laid  great  stress  on  the  pleasure  and  advantage 
it  would  be  to  Dick  to  have  a  companion  of  his 
own  age  for  once,  and  it  was  that  which  turned 
the  balance  with  me — after  the  educational 
question  had  been  got  out  of  the  wa}'.  For  I 
owe  Dick  a  good  turn  if  I  can  do  him  one  with- 
out hurting  anybody  else  ;  I  told  him  I  wouldn't 
forget  his  service  in  coming  down  through  the 
storm  yesterday,  and  I  haven't  forgotten.  I'm 
uncommonly  glad  to  think  that  in  consenting 
to  your  taking  part  in  this  expedition — which  I 
believe  will  be  a  great  thing  for  you,  mentally 
as  well  as  bodily — we  shall  be  doing  a  service  to 
Dick  and  to  the  old  professor  at  the  same  time." 

"  Well,  Uncle  Tom,"  said  I,  "  you  may  be 
sure  I  am  glad  enough  to  stay,  and  I  hope  it 
will  not  only  prove  a  good  thing  for  Dick  and 
me,  but  for  you  as  well." 

"  I  hope  so,  too.  And  it  will,  if  you  can 
locate  that  old  copper  mine,  and  if  it  should 
prove  to  be  anywhere  near  as  good  as  it 
sounds." 

As  things  turned  out,  I  was  destined  to  begin 
my  winter's  schooling  somewhat  earlier  than 
we  had  expected,  for,  five  days  after  the  storm, 
Uncle  Tom  received  from  his  Boston  employers 


The  Start  133 

a  telegram,  forwarded  by  mail  from  the  end  of 
the  line,  saying,  **  Come  here  at  once.  Im- 
portant," when,  without  demur,  he  forthwith 
packed  up  his  things  and  away  he  went; 
while  I,  taking  leave  of  our  kind  host,  the 
assayer,  moved  up  to  Herr  Bergen's  house. 

I  need  not  go  into  the  details  of  our  daily  life 
on  Mosby  Creek  ;  it  is  enough  to  say  that  the 
winter  was  one  of  the  pleasantest  I  had  ever 
spent.  Time  flew  by,  as  was  only  natural,  for 
there  was  not  an  idle  moment  for  either  of  us. 
Herr  Bergen  proved  to  be  a  most  able  instructor, 
not  only  in  the  matter  of  scholarship  but  in 
general  training  as  well.  He  had  served  in  the 
German  army  in  his  younger  days,  and  the 
habits  of  orderliness,  precision  and  promptness 
remained  with  him.  We  boys  were  made  to 
toe  the  mark,  and  no  mistake  ;  there  was  a  time 
for  work  and  a  time  for  play,  and  whether  for 
duty  or  pleasure,  we  had  to  be  on  hand  to  the 
minute. 

I  do  not  wish  to  imply  that  the  professor  was 
harsh,  or  anything  of  the  sort ;  very  far  from 
it:  he  was  most  considerate  of  our  shortcom- 
ings, which  were  doubtless  plentiful  enough, 
and  with  infinite  patience  would  go  over  the 
ground  again  and  again  whenever  Dick  or  I 


134  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

got  ourselves  tangled  up ;  a  condition  of  things 
which  happened  on  the  average  about  once  a 
day  to  each  of  us.  Then,  every  marked  advance 
we  made  in  any  of  our  studies  was  so  obviously 
gratifying  to  the  kindly  old  gentleman  that  that 
fact  alone  was  enough  to  spur  a  fellow  on  to  do- 
ing his  extra-best.  As  a  consequence,  I,  for  my 
part,  made  very  notable  progress,  and  it  was 
with  great  pleasure,  as  you  may  suppose,  that  I 
was  able  later  on  to  write  to  Uncle  Tom  my 
conviction  that  I  had  gained  rather  than  lost 
by  my  winter's  work. 

One  thing,  at  least,  which  I  should  not  have 
acquired  in  school,  I  gained  by  my  association 
with  the  professor's  household :  I  learned  to 
speak  Spanish.  Herr  Bergen  made  a  great 
point  of  it  that  I  should  do  so,  as  it  would  be 
pretty  sure  to  come  in  useful  during  the  ensuing 
summer.  He  and  Dick — and  Romero,  of  course 
— all  spoke  it  very  well,  so  that  my  opportunity 
for  picking  it  up  was  excellent,  and  I  made 
rapid  progress  ;  my  knowledge  of  Latin,  which, 
though  very  far  from  profound,  was  up  to  the 
average  of  a  schoolboy  of  my  age,  being  an 
immense  help. 

All  this  time  we  did  not  lack  exercise — the 
professor  was  just  as  particular  about  that  as  he 


The  Start  135 

was  about  our  work — and  Dick  and  I  had  many 
a  jolly  outing  on  our  snow-shoes,  the  manage- 
ment of  which  was  another  thing  I  learned.  I 
should  not  omit  to  mention  also  that  I  spent  a 
good  deal  of  time  and  a  liberal  number  of 
cartridges  practising  with  a  rifle,  thereby  be- 
coming a  very  fair  shot ;  though,  of  course,  I 
could  not  compete  with  Dick,  who,  having 
learned  as  a  mere  child,  seemed,  almost,  to 
shoot  straight  by  nature. 

The  weather  on  the  average  was  splendid  that 
winter,  and  there  were  but  few  days  when  we 
could  not  get  out.  Four  or  five  times,  perhaps, 
during  the  months  I  spent  in  the  valley  a  snow- 
storm came  raging  down  on  us,  shutting  us  up 
for  a  day  or  two,  after  which  the  jovial  sun 
would  turn  up  smiling  again  just  as  though 
nothing  had  happened. 

It  was  toward  the  end  of  April  that  Dick  and 
I  be,:^an  to  get  ready  to  leave.  The  increasing 
power  of  the  sun  had  cleared  off  all  the  snow 
l)elo\v  eleven  thousand  feet,  the  green  grass  was 
beginning  to  show  in  many  places,  and  it  was 
fair  to  suppose  that  by  the  time  we  reached  the 
Dos  Hermanos  we  should  find  pasturage  enough 
for  our  animals — two  ponies  and  a  mule. 

Dick  already  had  his  own   pony,  while  the 


136  The  Trail   of  the   Badger 

mule,  a  tough  little  beast  by  name  Uncle  Fritz, 
was  provided  by  the  professor,  both  animals 
having  passed  the  winter  on  a  ranch  about  a 
couple  of  thousand  feet  lower  down.  Before  he 
left.  Uncle  Tom  had  suggested  hiring  them  for 
the  season,  but  the  professor  would  not  consent 
to  his  paying  anything,  saying  that  the  animals 
might  just  as  well  be  put  to  some  use  as  to  waste 
their  time  doing  nothing  all  summer.  Conse- 
quently, about  the  only  expense  to  which  my 
guardian  was  put,  besides  furnishing  provisions 
and  tools  for  the  expedition,  was  the  purchase 
of  a  pony  and  a  rifle  for  me.  This  was  a  very 
moderate  outlay,  and  I  was  glad  to  think  that 
Uncle  Tom  would  get  off*  so  cheaply,  if  our  search 
should  turn  out  a  failure  ;  and  no  one  was  more 
ready  to  recognize  that  possibility — probability, 
I  should  rather  say,  perhaps — than  Uncle  Tom 
himself,  to  whom  the  many  stories  in  general 
circulation  of  lost  Spanish  mines  of  fabulous 
richness  were  familiar,  and  who  knew  very  well 
how  little  foundation  there  was  for  most  of 
them.  The  present  case,  though,  was  diff^erent 
from  the  generality,  in  that  there  existed  docu- 
mentary evidence  that  there  had  been  such  a 
mine  ;  a  fact  which  altered  the  conditions  en- 
tirely.    For  it  is  safe  to  say  that  without  such 


"passing  on   our  WAV   THROUGH   TriE  TO.VN   OF  MOSBY. 


The  Start  137 

documentary  evidence  Uncle  Tom  would  never 
have  consented  to  our  undertaking  such  an  en- 
terprise, and  Dick  and  I,  in  consequence,  would 
never  have  run  into  the  series  of  adventures 
which  were  destined  to  befall  us  before  we  were 
many  weeks  older. 

It  was  on  the  first  day  of  May  that  we  at  last 
took  leave  of  our  good  friend,  Herr  Bergen,  and 
rode  off  down  the  valley,  passing  on  our  way 
through  the  town  of  Mosby,  where  our  appear- 
ance on  horseback,  driving  our  pack-mule  be- 
fore us,  excited  among  the  citizens  much  specu- 
lation as  to  our  destination  ;  a  matter  concern- 
ing which  we  had  said  not  a  word  to  anybody. 
That  it  was  a  prospecting  expedition  any  one 
could  see,  for  the  pick  and  shovel  could  not 
very  well  be  concealed,  but  where  we  were 
bound  for  nobody  knew.  Uncle  Tom  having 
cautioned  us  that  if  we  let  a  word  escape  about 
an  old  Spanish  mine  we  should  have  a  hundred 
men  at  our  heels  in  no  time  ;  the  very  idea  of 
such  a  thing  having  an  irresistible  fascination 
for  some  people,  especially  for  the  inexperienced 
newcomer. 

Our  reason  for  taking  our  way  through  town 
rather  than  crossing  the  Mosby  Ridge,  back  of 
the  professor's  house,  and  going  down  the  Mes- 


138  The  Trail   of  the   Badger 

calero  valley,  was  that  the  latter  course,  cut  up 
by  many  deep  canons,  would  be  much  the  more 
difficult  of  the  two  ;  for  by  following  down  the 
eastern  side  of  the  ridge,  as  we  proposed  to  do, 
we  should  presently  come  to  a  point  where  that 
barrier,  which  up  near  Mescalero  began  as  a 
mountain  range,  became  first  a  line  of  round- 
topped  hills,  and  then,  about  forty  miles  below 
town,  came  to  an  end  altogether  in  a  little  coni- 
cal eminence  known  as  The  Foolscap.  We 
could  therefore  pass  round  its  southern  end 
without  difficulty,  when  we  should  find  our- 
selves in  the  Mescalero  valley  at  its  wide  part, 
and  by  heading  southwestward  should  arrive  in 
about  another  twenty  miles  in  the  neighborhood 
of  the  village  of  Hermanos — a  route  somewhat 
longer,  but  very  much  easier  for  the  animals, 
than  the  other  one. 

About  five  miles  below  town  we  abandoned 
the  road,  which  there  turned  off'  to  the  left  to 
join  the  main  stage-road,  and  continuing  our 
southward  course  up  and  down  hill  over  the 
spurs  of  the  Mosby  Ridge  we  made  camp  early  in 
the  afternoon  ;  for  our  animals  being  as  yet  in 
rather  poor  condition,  we  thought  it  advisable 
to  give  them  an  easy  day  for  the  first  one. 

Selecting  a  sheltered  nook  among  the  pine 


The   Start  139 

trees,  we  unpacked  the  mule  and  unsaddled  the 
ponies,  and  then,  while  Dick  cooked  our  supper, 
I  busied  myself  cutting  pine  boughs  for  our 
beds  and  chopping  fire-wood.  Soon  after  sunset 
we  rolled  ourselves  in  our  blankets,  and  in  spite 
of  the  novelty  of  the  situation — for  I  had  never 
before  gone  to  bed  with  no  roof  overhead  nearer 
than  the  sky — I  slept  soundly  until  Dick's  voice 
aroused  me,  crying,  "  Roll  out,  old  chap  !  Roll 
out !  The  sun  will  catch  you  in  bed  in  a 
minute,"  when  I  sprang  up,  fresh  as  a  daisy  and 
hungry  as  a  shark,  as  one  always  seems  to  do 
after  sleeping  out  under  the  stars  in  the  keen, 
pine-scented  air  of  the  mountains. 

Continuing  our  journey,  we  presently  rounded 
the  end  of  the  Mosby  Ridge,  and  turning  to  the 
right  saw  before  us  the  twin  peaks  of  the  Dos 
Hermanos,  standing  there,  as  it  seemed  to  me, 
like  two  faithful  sentinels  guarding  the  secret 
of  the  King  Philip  mine. 

"  Now,  Frank,"  said  my  companion,  as  we  sat 
at  supper  on  the  little  hill  with  which  the  Ridge 
terminated,  "  we  have  a  tough  day  of  it  before 
us  to-morrow.  The  valley  down  at  this  end, 
you  see,  is  just  a  sage-brush  plain  ;  there  are  no 
caiions  down  here  like  there  are  at  the  upper 
end ;    and    there    is    no    water   either,   unfortu- 


140  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

nately — this  side  of  the  mountains,  I  mean. 
The  streams  which  come  down  from  Mescalero 
and  the  Ridge  take  a  westerly  turn  and  go  off 
through  a  deep  gorge  to  the  north  of  the  peaks — 
you  can  see  the  black  shadow  of  it  from  here." 

"  What  do  the  people  at  Hermanos  do  for 
water,  then  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  There  is  a  little  stream  which  comes  down 
from  the  saddle  between  the  Dos  Hermanos 
peaks  and  runs  eastward  through  the  village. 
But  it  sinks  into  the  soil  soon  afterward,  for  the 
country  down  that  way  becomes  very  sandy  ;  it 
is  the  beginning  of  the  Little  Cactus  Desert, 
across  which  the  pack-trains  and  the  soldier  es- 
cort used  to  travel,  you  remember,  headed  for 
the  Mosca  Pass — that  low  place  in  the  Santa 
Claras  that  you  see  down  there,  due  south  from 
here." 

"  I  see.  So  the  nearest  water  is  the  stream 
running  through  the  village.  Do  3^ou  propose, 
then,  to  make  for  Hermanos?  " 

"  No,  I  don't,"  replied  Dick.  "  We  want  to 
avoid  the  village,  if  possible  :  it  is  no  use  excit- 
ing the  curiosity  of  old  Galvez,  if  he  happens  to 
be  there.  What  I  propose  is  that  we  make 
straight  from  here  to  the  north  side  of  the  peaks, 
leaving  the  village  three  or  four  miles  on  our 


The  Start  141 

left ;  find  a  good  camping-place,  and  make  it  a 
base  for  our  preliminary  operations." 

"That's  all  right,"  I  assented.  "But  how 
much  of  a  day's  ride  will  it  be  to  the  north  side 
of  the  peaks?  Further  than  to  Hermanos,  I 
suppose,  and  that  is  over  twenty  miles." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Dick,  "  twenty-five  miles  cer- 
tainly and  perhaps  thirty — a  long  stretch  with- 
out water.  But  we  can  do  it  all  right.  I  pro- 
pose that  we  get  off  by  four  in  the  morning, 
which  ought  to  bring  us  to  the  foothills  of  the 
Dos  Hermanos  by  two  or  three  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon." 

"  That's  a  good  idea,"  I  responded.  "  And  if, 
by  bad  luck,  we  should  find  that  we  can't  make 
it,  we  can  always  turn  off  and  head  for  the  vil- 
lage if  we  have  to." 

"  Yes.  So  let  us  get  to  bed  early.  It  will  be 
a  hard  day  at  best,  and  we  may  as  well  get  all 
the  sleep  we  can." 

As  my  companion  had  predicted,  the  morrow 
did  turn  out  to  be  a  tough  day,  and  it  began 
early,  too.  It  was  about  half-past  three  in  the 
morning  that  I  was  awakened  by  the  crackling 
of  the  fire,  and  sitting  up  in  my  blankets,  I  saw 
Dick  squatted  on  his  heels,  frying  bacon  over 
some  of  the  hot  embers. 


142  The  Trail   of  the   Badger 

''  Time  to  turn  out,  Frank,"  said  he.  "  Break- 
fast will  be  ready  in  two  minutes ;  feeling  pretty 
hungry  this  morning?  " 

By  way  of  reply,  I  opened  my  mouth  with  a 
yawn  so  prodigious  that  Dick  laughingly  con- 
tinued : 

"  Hungry  as  all  that,  eh?  Well,  old  man,  if 
the  size  of  your  mouth  is  an  indication  of  the 
size  of  your  appetite,  I'll  slice  up  another  half- 
pound  of  bacon  !  " 

At  this  I  laughed  too,  and  jumping  up,  I  ran 
to  the  creek,  where  I  soused  my  head  and  face 
in  the  cold  water,  which  wakened  me  up  effec- 
tually. 

By  four  o'clock  we  were  under  way,  steering 
by  compass  ;  for,  though  the  stars  were  shining 
and  the  waning  moon,  then  near  its  setting,  fur- 
nished some  light,  there  was  not  enough  to  en- 
able us  to  distinguish  objects  at  any  distance. 
Our  progress  at  first  was  pretty  slow,  for  horses 
and  mules  do  not  like  traveling  by  night,  but 
presently  there  came  a  change,  the  sky  behind 
us  took  on  a  rosy  hue,  and  pretty  soon  there  ap- 
peared on  the  western  horizon  two  glowing 
points,  like  a  pair  of  triangular  red  lamps  hung 
up  in  the  sky  for  our  guidance — the  summits  of 
the  Dos  Hermanos  caught  by  the  rising  sun. 


The  Start  143 

It  was  an  inspiring  sight !  The  very  animals, 
seeming  to  feel  its  influence,  brisked  up  at  once 
and  stepped  out  gaily,  while  Dick  and  I,  who 
had  been  "  mouching  "  along  in  silence,  straight- 
ened up  in  our  saddles  and  fell  to  talking. 

"  I've  been  thinking,  Dick,"  said  I,  "  about 
what  our  first  move  should  be  after  we  have 
found  a  good  camping-place.  My  idea  is  that 
we  should  ride  down  to  the  neighborhood  of 
Hermanos  and  see  if  there  is  any  sign  of  an  old 
trail  leading  from  the  village  to  the  mountains." 

*'  That's  a  good  idea,"  Dick  responded.  "  It 
is  pretty  certain  that  the  copper  was  brought 
down  from  the  mine  on  the  backs  of  burros,  and 
the  supplies  carried  up  in  the  same  way,  and  if 
that  was  kept  up  for  several  years  there  must 
have  been  a  well-defined  trail  worn  in  this  soft 
soil,  which  may  be  visible  yet." 

"  On  the  other  hand,"  was  my  comment,  "  as 
the  travel  ceased  so  long  ago,  isn't  it  probable 
that  the  trail  will  have  been  blown  full  of  sand 
and  covered  up?  " 

"  That  is  likely  enough — in  many  places,  at 
least,"  replied  my  companion,  "  though  it  is  very 
possible,  I  think,  that  there  may  be  some  traces 
left,  for  it  is  surprising  how  long  such  marks  on 
the  ground  continue  to  show.     At  any  rate,  we'll 


144  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

try  it.  Here's  the  sun  ;  it's  going  to  be  pretty 
hot,  I  expect." 

Slowly  we  plodded  along,  hour  after  hour,  un- 
til presently  we  had  come  opposite  the  village, 
the  mud-colored  buildings  of  which,  though  not 
more  than  three  miles  away,  were  barely  dis- 
tinguishable against  the  gray-tinted  plain  upon 
which  they  stood.  The  green  fields  and  gardens 
surrounding  the  houses  we  could  not  see,  they 
being  below  the  general  level,  but  that  they 
were  there,  and  that  the  Mexicans  were  at  that 
moment  engaged  in  irrigating  them,  we  felt  very 
sure.  A  light  wind  was  blowing  from  the  south, 
and  Dick  declared  that  he  could  "  smell  the 
wet " ;  but  though  I  sniffed  and  sniffed,  I  could 
not  conscientiously  say  that  I  could  detect  it 
myself. 

Our  animals,  however,  very  evidently  smelt 
it,  for  they  evinced  a  decided  inclination  to  bear 
to  the  left,  and  we  had  a  good  deal  of  difficulty 
in  keeping  their  heads  straight — the  slightest 
inattention  on  our  part,  and  they  were  off  the 
line  in  a  moment.  As  is  so  often  the  case,  they 
had  not  cared  to  drink  in  the  cool  of  the  morn- 
ing before  we  started,  and  consequently,  what 
with  the  heat  of  the  sun  and  the  alkali  dust  they 
kicked  up,  they  had  become  eager  for  water  and 


The  Start  145 

would  have  made  a  straight  shoot  for  Hermanos 
if  we  had  let  them. 

But  we  were  Rearing  the  mountains,  an  hour 
or  two  more  and  we  should  reach  water,  prob- 
ably, so,  though  it  was  painful  to  deny  the  poor 
beasts,  we  kept  right  on,  until  about  four  in  the 
afternoon — for  it  had  taken  us  longer  than  we 
had  anticipated — when  all  three  of  them  sud- 
denly lifted  their  heads,  pricked  their  ears  and 
wanted  to  run  forward.  They  smelt  water  ahead 
of  them. 

Pressing  on  at  an  increased  pace,  we  were  pres- 
ently brought  to  a  halt  by  coming  upon  the 
brink  of  a  cliff,  at  the  base  of  which  was  a  large 
pool  of  clear  water.  The  pool  lay  in  a  little 
grass-covered  valley  about  half  a  mile  long,  en- 
compassed on  all  sides  by  the  precipitous  wall  of 
rock.  We  could  not  see  that  there  was  any  way 
of  getting  down. 

In  order  to  get  a  better  view,  Dick  and  I  dis- 
mounted and  walked  to  the  edge,  when  the  first 
thing  we  saw  was  a  little  bunch  of  half-a-dozen 
scrawny  Mexican  cattle  down  near  the  pool. 

"  Then  there  is  a  way  down,"  cried  Dick. 
"Whoop!"  he  yelled,  clapping  his  mouth  with 
his  hand. 

The  cattle  looked  up,  and  seeing  two  horseless 


146  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

human  beings  on  the  sky-line  above  them,  away 
they  went  up  the  valley,  vanished  for  an  in- 
stant among  the  fallen  rocks  at  the  foot  of  the 
cliff,  and  in  another  moment  appeared  again  on 
our  level,  going  off  southward  with  their  tails  in 
the  air,  wild  as  deer. 

"Come  on  1  "  cried  Dick,  jumping  upon  his 
horse.     "  Where  they  came  up  we  can  get  down." 

Riding  forward,  we  presently  found  the  cow- 
trail,  when,  dismounting  once  more,  for  it  was 
too  steep  to  ride  without  risk  of  breaking  one's 
neck,  we  led  our  horses  down.  Within  another 
half-hour  Dick  and  I,  comfortably  seated  in  the 
shade  of  the  rock,  were  enjoying  a  much-needed 
dinner,  while  the  three  animals,  their  waist-lines 
enormously  distended  with  the  gallons  of  water 
they  had  swallowed,  were  eagerly  snapping  up 
the  young  green  grass  with  which  the  valley 
was  covered — all  the  troubles  of  the  day  com- 
pletely forgotten. 


CHAPTER  IX 

Antonio  Martinez 

AS  we  wished  to  give  the  animals  a  good  rest, 
we  decided  to  stay  where  we  were  for  the 
remainder  of  that  day  and  on  the  morrow  move 
to  the  foot  of  the  mountain  and  look  out  for  a 
good  camping-place  from  which  to  make  our 
preliminary  explorations. 

The  spot  where  we  were  then  encamped  would 
not  serve,  for  we  were  yet  at  least  three  miles 
from  the  lowest  spurs  of  the  twin  mountains. 
The  stream  beside  which  we  were  seated  issued 
from  the  northernmost  of  the  two  peaks,  and 
after  running  out  into  the  plain  for  some  dis- 
tance made  a  great  bend  and  went  back  almost 
to  the  point  of  departure,  when,  turning  to  the 
northward,  it  poured  its  waters  into  the  deep 
canon  cut  by  the  streams  which  came  down  from 
Mescalero  and  the  Ridge.  It  was  just  at  the 
bend  that  we  had  struck  it. 

"  What  we  want,  Frank,"  said  my  companion, 
"is  a  good  place  in  the  foothills,  and  when  we 
147 


148  The  Trail   of  the   Badger 

have  found  one,  1  propose  that  we  take  our 
ponies,  skirt  along  the  base  of  the  mountains 
from  north  to  south,  and  see  if  we  can't  cut 
across  that  old  trail  we  were  talking  about  this 
morning.  It  is  extremely  important  that  we 
should  do  so  ;  it  might  save  us  weeks  of  useless 
searching." 

"  Yes,"  I  assented,  "  it  would  be  a  great  help, 
of  course  ;  though  all  we  can  hope  to  find  is  some 
mark  in  the  soil  which  will  point  us  generally 
in  one  direction  or  another." 

"  Yes  ;  and  that's  just  it.  If  we  can  find  any 
indication  of  the  direction  the  trains  used  to  take 
when  they  started  from  the  King's  House,  it  will 
lighten  our  task  tremendously.  Look  here," 
taking  a  pointed  stick  and  drawing  a  rough  plat 
of  the  country  in  the  sand.  "  Here  are  the  two 
peaks,  lying  north  and  south  of  each  other  ; 
here,  between  them,  the  creek  comes  dowm  which 
runs  two  or  three  miles  out  on  to  the  plain  to  the 
village  here.  Now,  when  the  trains  used  to  start 
out  from  the  Casa  del  Rey  they  took  to  the  right 
of  that  stream  or  they  took  to  the  left  of  it,  one 
or  the  other,  and  if  we  can  do  no  more  than  find 
out  which  it  was  it  will  be  a  great  help." 

"  Of  course,"  I  responded.  "  I  see  that.  It 
would  show  us  whether  it  was  the  north  moun- 


Antonio   Martinez  149 

tain    or   the   south    mountain   that  we  had  to 
explore." 

**  That's  it,  exactly.  And  if  you  stop  for  a  mo- 
ment to  consider,  you  will  see  that  that  would 
be  a  pretty  big  item  all  by  itself.  The  two 
mountains  cover  a  space  about  fifteen  miles  long 
by,  perhaps,  ton  miles  wide — a  hundred  and  iifty 
square  miles — a  pretty  big  piece  of  country,  old 
man,  for  you  and  me  to  scramble  over ;  but  if 
we  can  find  a  trail  which  will  show  us  which  of 
the  two  mountains  is  the  right  one,  that  hundred 
and  fifty  miles  will  be  chopped  in  half  at  one 
blow— and  if  that  isn't  a  pretty  big  item  all  by 
itself,  I  should  like  to  know  what  is." 

With  that,  Dick,  who  was  sitting  cross-legged 
on  the  ground,  stuck  his  stick  point  downward 
into  the  middle  of  his  map,  planted  his  hands 
on  either  knee,  and  with  a  defiant  jerk  of  his 
head,  challenged  me  to  deny  his  conclusion. 

I  could  not  help  laughing  at  his  emphatic 
manner,  but  I  could  not  help,  either,  admitting 
that  his  point  was  a  good  one. 

"  It  certainly  would  make  an  immense  differ- 
ence," said  I,  "  and  it  will  pay  us  to  find  that  old 
trail  if  it  takes  us  a  week  to  do  it.  So,  let  us 
dig  out  first  thing  to-morrow,  Dick,  and  find  a 
good  camping-place  as  a  base." 


150  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

Accordingly  we  broke  camp  again  early 
next  morning,  and  following  along  the  rim  of 
the  cailon  we  presently  drew  near  the  foothills. 
As  we  approached  the  mountain  we  were  able  to 
distinguish  with  more  clearness  the  details  of  its 
form,  and  the  more  clearly  we  could  distinguish 
them  the  more  were  we  impressed  with  the  dif- 
ficulty and  the  magnitude  of  the  task  we  had 
undertaken.  It  was  not  going  to  be  the  simple, 
straightforward  matter  I  had  at  first  imagined. 

Seen  from  a  distance  the  north  peak  looked 
smooth  and  symmetrical,  but  when  you  came 
close  to  it  you  found  that  it  was  broken  up  into 
cliffs  and  canons,  some  of  them  of  great  height 
and  depth.  On  its  northern  face,  a  thousand 
feet  or  so  below  the  summit,  our  attention  was 
drawn  to  a  great  semicircular  precipice  which 
looked  very  like  the  upper  half  of  an  old  vol- 
canic crater,  the  lower  half,  presumably,  hav- 
ing broken  away  and  fallen  down  the  moun- 
tain. 

"A  pretty  tough  piece  of  country,  Frank," 
said  my  companion,  "  and  a  pretty  large  stretch 
of  it,  too,  for  us  to  tramp  over ;  for,  by  the  look 
of  it  from  here,  our  horses  won't  be  much  use  to 
us — at  least,  when  we  get  up  above  the  lower 
spurs.     Let  us  try  this  gully  to  the  left :  there's 


Antonio   Martinez  151 

probably  water  up  there  ;  I  see  the  tops  of  two 
or  three  cotton  woods." 

Turning  in  that  direction,  therefore,  we  pres- 
ently came  upon  a  diminutive  stream  which  ran 
down  and  fell  into  the  canon,  and  passing  be- 
tween two  high  rocks,  which  looked  as  though 
they  had  been  split  apart  with  a  wedge  to  let  the 
water  out,  we  found  ourselves  in  a  little  park- 
like valley,  flanked  on  either  side  by  high 
ridges. 

"  This  ought  to  do,  Dick,"  said  I,  "  at  any  rate 
for  the  present;  plenty  of  grass,  plenty  of  wood 
and  plenty  of  water.     Just  the  place." 

"  Yes,  this  is  all  right ;  couldn't  be  better. 
Let's  unsaddle  at  once,  make  our  camp,  and  after 
dinner  we'll  ride  down  in  the  direction  of  Her- 
manos  and  do  a  little  prospecting." 

Having  chosen  a  good  spot,  we  arranged  a 
comfortable  camp,  and  after  a  hasty  dinner  we 
started  out ;  first  picketing  Uncle  Fritz  to  keep 
him  from  coming  trailing  after  us. 

Immediately  to  the  south  of  our  camping- 
place,  forming  one  of  the  boundaries  of  the  little 
ravine,  in  fact,  there  stretched  down  from  the 
mountain  a  great,  bare  rib  of  granite,  almost 
devoid  of  vegetation,  which  projected  a  long 
way  out  into  the  valley,  and  as  it  lay  square 


152  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

across  our  course  we  decided,  instead  of  going 
round  the  end  of  it,  to  ride  up  to  the  top  in 
order  to  get  a  good  lookout  over  the  country  we 
proposed  to  examine.  From  the  summit  of  this 
ridge,  at  a  point  about  four  hundred  feet  above 
the  plain,  we  were  able  to  get  a  very  good  view 
of  all  the  wide  stretch  of  comparatively  level 
ground  below  us,  including  the  village  of  Her- 
manos  and  the  green  irrigated  fields  around  it, 
which  from  this  elevation  were  distinctly  vis- 
ible. Except  for  this  tiny  oasis,  the  whole  plain, 
bounded  on  the  east  by  the  Mosby  Ridge,  and 
on  the  south  by  the  Santa  Clara  mountains, 
appeared  to  be  one  uniform,  level  stretch  of 
sage-brush  desert — dull,  gray  and  uninviting. 

"  What  a  pity,"  remarked  Dick,  "  that  there 
is  no  water  here.  If  only  one  could  get  water 
upon  it,  this  sage-brush  plain  could  be  turned 
into  a  wheat-field  big  enough  to  supply  the 
whole  State  with  bread,  besides  furnishing  labor 
and  subsistence  for  a  good-sized  population  of 
farmers." 

"It  would  be  fine,  wouldn't  it?"  I  assented. 
"  And  I  don't  see  wh}^  it  has  never  been  done : 
there  must  be  many  streams  coming  down  from 
these  mountains." 

"  Yes,  no  doubt ;  but  the  difficulty  is  that  all 


Antonio  Martinez  153 

the  streams  of  any  consequence  have  cut  canons 
for  themselves  and  are  too  far  below  the  general 
level  to  be  of  any  use.  To  get  water  out  upon 
the  surface  of  this  valley  one  would  have  to  go 
high  up  on  the  mountain,  find  some  good-sized 
stream,  head  it  off — building  a  dam  for  the  pur- 
pose, perhaps — and  then  conduct  the  water  down 
here  b}^  a  ditch  several  miles  long  possibly.  Far 
too  big  an  undertaking,  you  see,  for  these  penni- 
less, unenterprising  Mexicans." 

"  I  see.  It  would  take  a  great  deal  of  work 
and  a  great  deal  of  money,  probably,  but  it 
would  be  a  fine  thing  to  do,  all  the  same." 

*'  Yes,  it  would ;  and  some  day  it  will  be 
done.  It  won't  be  so  ver}^  many  years  before 
all  the  '  easy  water '  in  the  State  will  have  been 
appropriated,  and  then  people  will  begin  to 
look  out  for  a  supply  in  the  more  out-of-the- 
way  places,  building  reservoirs  to  catch  the 
rainfall  which  now  runs  to  waste  after  every 
thunder-storm,  and  carrying  the  water  long  dis- 
tances to  sell  it  to  the  ranchman.  The  pro- 
fessor says  that  some  day  the  business  of  catch- 
ing and  distributing  irrigation  water  will  be  the 
most  important  industry  in  the  State,  and  that 
a  good  ever-fiowing  stream  will  be  more  valuable 
than  any  silver  mine." 


154  The  Trail   of  the   Badger 

"I  can  understand  that,"  I  replied.  "The 
best  mine  will  some  day  come  to  an  end,  for 
when  the  silver  is  once  dug  out  it  is  gone — you 
can't  plant  more ;  whereas,  a  good  stream  of 
water  applied  on  the  soil  will  go  on  producing 
forever  and  ever." 

"  That's  it,  exactly.  And  some  day  that  is 
what  will  happen  here.  This  fine  stretch  of 
level  land,  which  now  grows  only  grass  enough 
to  support  about  three  cows  and  a  burro,  won't 
always  lie  idle.  Some  enterprising  fellow  will 
come  along,  climb  up  into  this  mountain,  catch 
one  of  those  streams  which  now  go  running  off 
through  the  canons,  turn  it  down  here,  and  a 
couple  of  years  later  this  worthless  desert  will 
be  converted  into  farms  and  orchards." 

"  A  fine  undertaking,  too  !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  I 
should  like  to  have  a  try  at  it  myself." 

"So  should  I.  But  our  object  in  life  just 
now  is  '  copper,'  so  come  on,  old  chap,  and  let 
us  ride  down  to  the  point  of  this  ridge.  What 
is  that  black  speck  down  there  toward  the 
village?  Man  on  horseback?  Ah  I  He  has 
disappeared  again.  Well,  come  on  now,  Frank. 
Let's  get  started." 

Getting  down  upon  the  plain  again,  we  turned 
southward,  skirting  the  base  of  the  mountain, 


Antonio   Martinez  155 

winding  our  way  through  the  sage-brush,  which 
was  large  and  very  thick,  when,  after  riding 
barely  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  that  direction, 
Dick  suddenly  pulled  up. 

"  Frank  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Look  here  ! 
Doesn't  it  seem  to  you  that  there  is  a  depres- 
sion in  the  soil  going  off  to  the  right  and  the 
left?  Look  away  a  hundred  yards  and  you  will 
see  what  I  mean.  It  seems  to  lead  straight  up 
into  the  mountain  one  way,  and  straight  out 
upon  the  plain  the  other  way." 

At  first  I  could  not  detect  anything  of  the 
sort,  but  on  Dick's  pointing  it  out  more 
particularly  it  did  appear  to  me  that  there 
was  a  depression  going  off  in  both  di- 
rections. 

"  Let  us  turn  to  the  left,  Dick,"  said  I,  "  and 
follow  it — if  we  can — out  into  the  valley  and 
see  what  becomes  of  it." 

*'  All  right,"  responded  my  companion. 
"  Let's  do  so." 

The  mark  on  the  ground  was  by  no  means 
easy  to  follow,  it  was  so  overgrown  with  sage- 
brush, and  in  many  places  altogether  obliterated 
by  drifting  sand,  but,  though  we  frequently  lost 
it,  by  looking  far  ahead  we  always  caught  the 
line  again.     Presently  we  found  that  it  went 


156  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

curving    off  to    the  right  in  the   direction    of 
Hermanos,  and  our  hopes  rose. 

*'  Dick  !  "  I  cried.  "  This  is  no  accidental 
mark  in  the  soil  1  It  is  a  trail,  as  sure  as  you 
live!" 

''  It    does    begin    to    look    like    it,"    replied 

my  more   cautious  friend.     "I  believe  it 

Hallo  !     Who's  this  coming  ?  " 

As  he  spoke,  I  saw  about  half  a  mile  away  a 
horseman  coming  toward  us  at  an  easy  lope 
from  the  direction  of  the  village.  He  was 
riding  a  handsome  gray  horse,  very  superior 
to  the  little  bronchos  we  ourselves  bestrode. 

•'  He  rides  well,"  said  I.  ''  I  wonder  how  he 
got  so  close  to  us  on  this  flat  country  without 
our  seeing  him." 

"  The  country  is  probably  not  quite  so  flat  as 
it  looks,"  replied  my  companion.  "  I  expect 
the  man  has  been  keeping  in  the  hollows  so 
that  he  might  slip  up  on  us  unobserved.  It  is 
probably  old  Galvez  coming  to  find  out  what 
we  are  doing  prowling  around  his  domain. 
He  must  be  the  horseman  I  saw  just  now,  and 
I've  no  doubt  he  saw  us,  too,  cocked  up  on  that 
bare  ridge — for  all  these  Mexicans  have  eyes 
like  hawks." 

Meanwhile  the  rider  continued  to  approach, 


Antonio   Martinez  157 

and  as  he  came  nearer  we  observed,  rather  to 
our  relief,  that  it  could  not  be  the  padron,  for 
the  stranger  was  a  well-dressed  young  Mexican, 
only  three  or  four  years  older  than  ourselves,  a 
handsome,  intelligent-looking  young  fellow, 
too,  with  a  trim  little  black  moustache  and 
bright  black  eyes — evidently  one  of  a  class 
superior  to  the  ordinary  cow-man  or  farm-hand. 

Watching  him  closely  as  he  came  up,  wonder- 
ing what  sort  of  a  reception  we  should  get  from 
him,  it  appeared  to  me  that  he,  too,  looked  both 
surprised  and  relieved  when  he  perceived  that 
instead  of  the  two  rough  and  sturdy  prospectors 
he  had  probably  expected  to  meet,  it  was  only  a 
couple  of  boys,  younger  than  himself,  with 
whom  he  had  to  deal. 

And  it  is  likely  that  he  did  feel  relieved,  for 
at  that  time  the  white  men — or,  at  least,  very 
many  of  them — dwelling  on  what  was  then  the 
outer  edge  of  civilization,  were  apt  to  look  down 
upon  all  Mexicans  as  people  of  an  inferior  race, 
frequently  treating  them  in  consequence  in  a 
rough,  overbearing  manner  by  no  means 
calculated  to  promote  friendl}^  feeling. 

The  young  Mexican  doubtless  "  sized  us  up  " 
favorably  ;  at  any  rate,  no  sooner  had  he  come 
near  enough  to  see  what  we  were  like  than  he 


158  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

rode  straight  up  to  us,  and  addressing  us  politely 
in  Spanish,  said  : 

"  Good-day,  sirs.  Are  you  going  down  to 
Hermanos?  I  shall  be  glad  to  ride  with  you  if 
you  are." 

It  happened  that  I  was  the  one  to  whom  he 
addressed  this  salutation,  Dick  being  a  little 
further  back.  Now,  though  I  had  acquired 
enough  of  the  language  to  understand  and 
speak  it  fairly  well,  the  Spanish  I  had  learned 
was  good  Castilian,  whereas  the  young  Mexican 
spoke  a  kind  of  imtois,  such  as  is  commonly 
used  among  all  the  natives  of  these  outlying 
settlements.  The  unexpected  difference  of  pro- 
nunciation, though  slight,  caused  me  to  hesitate 
an  instant  in  making  reply — I  have  no  doubt, 
too,  my  face  looked  rather  blank — whereupon 
the  young  fellow  instantly  jumped  to  the  con- 
clusion that  we  did  not  speak  Spanish  at  all,  and 
he  therefore  repeated  his  remark  in  English. 

It  was  without  any  thought  of  misleading  him 
that  I  replied,  very  naturally,  in  the  tongue 
which  came  easiest  to  me,  and  as  the  stranger 
spoke  English  quite  as  well  as  I  did,  it  was  very 
natural  again  that  the  conversation  should  be 
continued  in  that  tongue.  Thus  it  happened 
that  we  accidentally  deceived  him — or,  rather, 


Antonio   Martinez  159 

he  deceived  himself — into  the  belief  that  we  did 
not  understand  any  language  but  our  own,  and 
as  no  opportunity  cropped  up  during  our  talk 
for  setting  him  right,  he  continued  in  this  mis- 
taken idea  ;  a  fact  which,  a  little  later,  caused 
us  considerable  satisfaction — not  on  our  own 
account,  but  on  his. 

Replying  to  his  question  therefore  in  English, 
I  said  : 

"  No,  we  were  not  bound  for  Hermanos  in 
particular.  We  have  come  down  here  to  do  a 
little  prospecting,  and  were  just  riding  around  a 
bit  to  take  a  look  at  the  country.  Do  you  live 
here?" 

"  No,"  he  replied,  "  I  live  in  Sante  Fe.  My 
name  Js  Antonio  Martinez.  I  am  on  a  visit 
here  to  my  uncle,  Seilor  Galvez,  the  padron  of 
Hermanos.  He  is  my  mother's  brother,  and  as 
she  had  not  seen  him  for  many  years,  and  as  he 
has  always  declined  to  come  to  us,  she  sent  me 
here  to  make  his  acquaintance.  For  myself,  I 
had  never  even  seen  him  until  I  arrived  here 
two  weeks  ago,  and " 

He  checked  himself  suddenly,  looking  a  little 
confused  ;  I  had  an  idea  that  what  he  was  going 
to  say  was  that  he  did  not  much  care  if  he  never 
saw  him  again. 


i6o  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

"  And  are  you  expecting  to  stay  here?  "  asked 
Dick. 

"  No,  I  go  back  in  a  day  or  two.  Where  do 
you,  yourselves  hail  from,  if  I  may  ask  ?  From 
Mosby  ?  " 

•*  Yes,  from  Mosby,"  replied  Dick.  **  We 
came  down,  as  my  friend  said,  to  do  some  pros- 
pecting up  in  one  or  other  of  these  two  peaks — 
we  don't  know  which  one  yet.  How  is  the 
country  up  there  ?  Pretty  accessible  ?  You've 
been  up,  I  suppose." 

"  No,  I  haven't,"  replied  the  young  Mexican. 
"  You  think  that  rather  strange,  don't  you  ? 
And  naturally  enough.  Here  have  I  been  for 
two  weeks  hanging  around  this  village  with  ab- 
solutely nothing  to  do  ;  I  should  have  been  glad 
enough  to  make  an  expedition  up  into  the 
mountains— in  fact,  I  had  a  very  particular  rea- 
son for  wishing  to  do  so— but  when  I  suggested 
the  idea  to  the  padron,  explaining  to  him  why 
I  was  so  anxious  to  go,  he  not  only  refused  em- 
phatically for  himself,  but  declined  to  let  me  go 
either." 

"  Why,  that  seems  queer  !  "  cried  Dick. 

"  It  does,  doesn't  it  ?  And  his  reason  for  re- 
fusing will  appear  to  you  queerer  still— he's 
afraid  !  " 


Antonio  Martinez  i6i 

"  Afraid  !  "  we  both  exclaimed.  "  Afraid  of 
what?" 

"  Afraid  of  The  Badger,"  replied  the  young 
fellow,  breaking  into  a  laugh  as  he  noted  the 
mystified  look  which  came  over  both  our 
faces. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  I  asked.  "  Why 
should  he — or  anybody — be  afraid  of  a  badger  ?  " 

"  I  said  The  Badger,"  replied  our  friend. 
"  You  have  never  heard  of  him,  evidently — El 
Tejon,  The  Badger." 

We  both  shook  our  heads. 

•*  What  is  he  ?  "  I  asked.     "  A  man  ?  " 

"  Yes — or  a  wild  beast.  It  is  hard  to  say 
which.  He  is  a  Mexican  who  once  lived  in  the 
village  here,  I  believe.  For  some  reason  which 
I  cannot  understand — for  my  uncle  won't  talk 
about  it,  though  I  have  asked  him  several  times 
— for  some  reason  The  Badger  conceived  a  vio- 
lent hatred  for  the  padron  ;  whether  he  went 
crazy  or  not,  I  don't  know,  but  anyhow  he 
committed  a  murderous  assault  upon  him,  hurt- 
ing him  badly — knocked  out  all  his  front  teeth 
with  a  stone,  for  one  thing — and  then  escaped 
into  the  mountains.  That  was  twelve  years 
ago,  and  as  far  as  any  one  knows  he  is  there 
yet,  if  he  is  still  alive." 


1 62  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

**  And  wasn't  any  attempt  ever  made  to  cap- 
ture him?  "  asked  Dick. 

"  Once,"  replied  Antonio.  "  According  to  the 
padron's  story,  he  went  out  with  six  of  his  cow- 
men to  try  to  run  The  Badger  to  earth  ;  but  the 
attempt  was  a  failure,  as  was  only  to  be  ex- 
pected, for  the  cow-men  were  very  unwilling  to 
go.  They  trembled  at  the  very  name  of  El 
Tejon,  who  was  a  man  of  immense  strength  and 
a  great  hunter,  and  they  feared  that  instead  of 
catching  him,  he  would  catch  one  of  them. 
And  the  event  showed  that  they  had  reason. 
They  had  been  out  several  days,  had  ridden  all 
over  the  lower  part  of  the  north  mountain  with- 
out seeing  a  sign  of  their  man,  and  were  coming 
back,  single  file,  down  a  narrow  gully,  when 
the  padron's  horse  suddenly,  and  seemingly 
without  cause,  fell  down,  stone  dead.  The 
rider,  of  course,  fell  too,  and  striking  his  head 
against  a  stone  he  lay  for  a  moment  stunned. 
No  one  could  think  what  had  happened  to  the 
horse,  until  presently  one  of  the  men  noticed 
blood  upon  the  rocks,  and  turning  the  animal 
over  they  were  all  scared  out  of  their  wits  by 
seeing  the  head  of  an  arrow  sticking  out  be- 
tween his  ribs." 

"  An  arrow  1 "  we  both  cried. 


Antonio  Martinez  163 

"  Yes,  an  arrow,"  continued  the  narrator,  not 
noticing  the  glance  Dick  and  I  exchanged. 
"  They  knew  well  enough  where  it  came  from, 
for  The  Badger  had  always  hunted  with  a  how 
and  arrow,  with  which  he  was  extraordinarily 
expert.  The  instant  the  cow-men  saw  what  had 
happened  they  stuck  spurs  into  their  horses  and 
away  they  all  went,  helter-skelter,  leaving  their 
leader  lying  on  the  ground." 

"  That  was  a  pretty  shabby  desertion,"  said  I. 
"  How  did  the  padron  escape?  " 

"  That  is  one  of  the  things  I  can't  under- 
stand," replied  Antonio.  "  Why  the  man,  hav- 
ing him  so  entirely  in  his  power,  didn't  kill 
him  at  once  is  a  puzzle  to  me.  As  it  was,  when 
the  padron  recovered  his  senses,  he  found  El 
Tejon  calmly  seated  on  the  carcase  of  the  horse, 
waiting  for  him  to  wake  up.  He  quite  expected, 
he  says,  to  be  murdered  forthwith,  but  instead, 
the  man  merely  held  up  the  arrow,  which  he 
had  drawn  out  of  the  horse's  body,  and  said  : 
'  For  you — next  time  ' ;  and  with  that  he  arose 
and  Avalked  off.  The  padron  is  no  coward,  but 
he  knows  when  to  let  well  enough  alone  :  he  has 
never  been  up  on  the  mountain  since." 

"  That's  a  curious  story,"  said  Dick.  "  What 
sort  of  a  looking  man  is  this  El  Tejon  ?  " 


164  The  Trail  of  the   Badger 

"  I've  never  seen  him  myself,  of  course,"  re- 
plied our  friend,  "  but  the  padron  describes  him 
as  a  very  remarkable  man  to  look  at :  less  than 
five  feet  high,  with  an  immense  body,  very 
short  legs  and  very  long  arms." 

Dick  and  I  exchanged  glances  again. 

"  Whether  the  man  is  yet  alive,"  continued 
the  young  fellow,  "  nobody  knows.  It  is  nearly 
twelve  years  ago  that  this  happened,  and  since 
then  he  has  never  been  seen  nor  heard  of.  The 
chances  are,  I  expect,  that  he  has  been  long 
dead." 

"  On  that  point,"  remarked  Dick,  "  we  can 
give  you  a  little  information.  He  is  not  dead — 
at  least  he  wasn't  last  fall." 


CHAPTER  X 

The  Padron 

"TTTHAT    do   3^ou   mean?"  cried  Antonio. 

'  ▼  *' How  do  you  know?  I  thought  you 
said  you  had  never  heard  of  him." 

"  We  hadn't,"  replied  Dick,  "  until  you  men- 
tioned his  name,  but  from  your  description  we 
have  no  doubt  we  saw  him  some  months  ago  up 
here  at  the  head  of  the  valley." 

With  this  by  way  of  preface,  my  companion 
related  to  our  new  acquaintance  the  particulars 
of  our  "  interview  "  with  the  "  little  giant,"  as 
he  called  him. 

"  It  must  be  the  same  man,"  said  Antonio. 

"  1  wonder  what  he  was  doing  so  far  away  from 

his  own  mountain.     You  say  he  shot  the  wolf 

with  a  copper-headed  arrow  ?     That's  something 

I  should  like  to  investigate,  if  onl}^  the  padron 

were  not  so  dead  set  against  ni}^  going  up  into 

the  mountain.     Where  does  he  get  his  copper? 

In  fact "     He  paused  to  consider,  and  then 

went  on  :     "  Yes  ;  I  don't  see  why  I  shouldn't 

tell  you — my  uncle  won't  go  himself,  and  he 
165 


1 66  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

won't  let  me  go,  so  I  may  as  well  tell  yoit.  The 
truth  is  that  the  reason  why  I  was  so  anxious  to 
make  an  excursion  up  there  was  just  that — to 
find  out  where  El  Tejon  gets  his  copper.  And 
not  only  he,  but  the  villagers  down  here.  Every 
house  in  Hermanos  has  its  copper  bowl  and  dip- 
per. They  are  hammered  out  of  lumps  of  native 
copper  ;  some  of  them  must  weigh  five  or  six 
pounds.  Where  did  they  come  from  ?  Lumps 
of  copper  of  that  size  were  not  washed  down  the 
streams — they  were  dug  up.  But  by  whom,  and 
where?" 

I  felt  a  great  inclination  to  tell  him.  He  had 
been  so  friendly  and  communicative  that  I  be- 
gan to  feel  rather  uncomfortable  at  the  thought 
that  we  were  drawing  all  this  information  from 
him  under  what  might  be  regarded  as  false  pre- 
tences. 

I  was  pretty  sure  that  Dick  would  be  feeling 
much  the  same — for  among  boys,  as  I  have  many 
a  time  noticed,  there  is  nothing  more  catching 
than  open-heartedness — and  I  was  right ;  for, 
glancing  at  him  to  see  what  he  thought,  I  caught 
his  eye,  when  he  immediately  raised  his  eye- 
brows a  trifle,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Shall  I  tell 
him  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  aloud.     "  I  think  so.     Though 


The   Padron  167 

we  must  remember,  Dick,  that  it  isn't  altogether 
our  secret." 

Dick  nodded,  and  turning  to  the  young  Mex- 
ican, who  was  gazing  at  us  open-eyed,  wondering 
what  we  were  talking  about,  he  said  : 

"  Senor  Antonio,  my  friend  and  I  agree  that 
it  isn't  quite  fair  to  you  to  let  you  go  on  telling 
us  these  things  without  our  telling  you  some- 
thing in  return.  As  Frank  says,  it  is  not  alto- 
gether our  own  secret,  but  at  the  same  time  we 
don't  think  it  is  quite  a  square  deal  to  get  all 
these  particulars  from  you  and  to  keep  you  in 
the  dark  about  ourselves.  I  can  tell  you  this 
much,  anyhow  :  that  our  object  in  coming  down 
here  was  to  find  out  where  those  same  lumps  of 
copper  did  come  from." 

"  Why,  how  did  you  know  anything  about 
them?"  cried  Antonio,  opening  his  eyes  wider 
still. 

*'  I  passed  through  Hermanos  about  eighteen 
months  ago,"  replied  Dick,  "  in  company  with  a 
German  naturalist,  Herr  Bergen,  when  we  no- 
ticed the  great  number  of  copper  bowls  and 
things,  and  the  sight  of  them  reminded  the  pro- 
fessor of  a  story  he  had  heard  of  an  old  copper 
mine,  abandoned  more  than  a  hundred  years 
ago,  supposed  to  be  somewhere  down  in  this 


1 68  The  Trail  of  the   Badger 

country.  The  story  the  professor  told  us  is  the 
story  which  we  think  we  have  no  business  to  re- 
peat, but  I  can  tell  you  this  much,  at  least,  that 
it  seemed  to  indicate  the  Dos  Hermanos  as  the 
site  of  the  old  mine  ;  and  so  we  got  leave  to  come 
down  here  to  see  if  we  couldn't  trail  it  up." 

"Is  that  so?  What  fun  you  will  have.  I 
wish  I  could  go  with  you.  But  that,  I  know,  is 
out  of  the  question  :  the  padron  would  not  con- 
sent, and  I  could  not  go  against  his  will.  But 
if  I  can  help  you  I  shall  be  very  glad.  Does  the 
story  you  refer  to  indicate  which  of  the  two 
peaks  is  the  right  one?  " 

"  No,  it  doesn't,"  replied  Dick.  "  We  suppose 
that  the  copper  used  to  be  brought  down  to  the 
Casa  on  pack-burros,  and  we  thought  there  might 
be  the  remains  of  a  trail  down  here  in  the  val- 
ley. That  is  what  we  were  doing  when  you 
rode  up  : — looking  for  the  trail ;  and  we  thought 
perhaps  we  had  found  it  when  we  discovered  this 
indentation  in  the  soil  that  we  have  been  fol- 
lowing." 

"  And  I  believe  you  have  !  "  cried  Antonio. 
"  That's  just  what  you  have  !  It  goes  on  straight 
southward  from  here,  very  plain,  to  within  half 
a  mile  of  the  Casa  and  then  seems  to  die  out  for 
some  reason.     But,  that  it  is  the  old  trail  I  feel 


The   Padron  169 

certain.     Your  copper  mine  is  up  there  on  the 
north  peak  as  sure  as " 

He  stopped  short,  his  enthusiasm  suddenly 
died  out,  and  pulling  a  long  face,  he  gazed  at  us 
rather  blankly. 

"Well?"  asked  Dick. 

"  I  was  forgetting.  There's  something  else  up 
there  on  the  north  peak." 

"What's  that?" 

"The  Badger!" 

"  That's  so  I  "  cried  Dick.  "  I'd  forgotten  him, 
too.  Do  you  suppose  he  would  interfere  with 
us?" 

"  That's  more  than  I  can  say.  From  what  the 
padron  has  told  me,  I  imagine  it  is  only  to  him 
that  El  Tejon  objects,  and  perhaps  also  to  me  as 
one  of  the  family ;  but  I'm  not  sure  about  that. 
Look  here  !  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do.  I'll  just 
ride  home  and  ask  him  what  he  thinks.  You 
stay  here.     I'll  be  back  in  half  an  hour." 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  said  my  partner.  "  But 
why  should  we  trouble  you  to  come  back  here? 
We'll  ride  down  with  you." 

To  our  surprise  the  young  fellow  flushed  and 
looked  embarrassed,  but  recovering  in  a  moment, 
he  said  : 

"  Come  on,  then.     But  before  we  go,  let  me 


170  The  Trail   of  the   Badger 

tell  you  something.  The  reason  I  hesitated  was 
that  I  feared  you  might  not  receive  a  very  hearty 
welcome  from  the  padron.  The  truth  of  the 
matter  is — to  put  it  plainly,  once  for  all — he 
hates  strangers,  and  above  all  he  hates  the 
Americans.  I  am  sorry  it  should  be  so,  but  so 
it  is.  The  feeling  is  not  uncommon  among  the 
older  Mexicans  :  those  who  went  through  the 
war  of  '46  ;  and  if  you  stop  to  think  of  it,  it  isn't 
altogether  unreasonable.  According  to  the  pa- 
dron's  view  of  the  matter,  his  native  country  was 
invaded  without  cause  or  justice;  he,  himself, 
fought  against  the  invader  ;  his  own  brother  and 
many  of  his  friends  were  killed  ;  and  finally,  he 
saw  the  land  where  he  was  born  torn  away  from 
its  old  moorings  and  attached  to  the  country  of 
the  enemy." 

This  defence  of  his  fellow-countryman,  which 
the  young  Mexican  delivered  with  much  earn- 
estness and  feeling,  was  a  revelation  to  me. 
Hitherto  I  had  only  considered  the  war  with 
Mexico  from  our  side,  glorying  in  our  success 
and  admiring — very  rightly — the  bravery  of 
our  soldiers.  That  the  Mexicans,  themselves, 
might  have  a  point  of  view  of  their  own  had 
never  occurred  to  me,  until  this  young  fellow  thus 
held  up  their  side  of  the  picture  for  me  to  see. 


The  Padron  171 

"  That's  a  matter  I  never  thought  of  before," 
said  I  ;  "  but  when  you  do  stop  to  think  of  it, 
it  is  not  surprising  that  the  older  generation  of 
Mexicans  should  have  no  liking  for  us." 

"  No,"  Dick  chimed  in  ;  "  and  I  don't  think 
you  can  blame  them,  either." 

"  I'm  glad  you  see  it  that  way,"  said  Antonio. 
"  It  makes  things  all  comfortable  for  me.  So, 
now,  let  us  get  along.  And  if  the  padron 
doesn't  seem  best  pleased  to  see  you,  you  will 
know  why." 

Following  along  the  line  of  the  supposed 
trail,  which  continued  in  general  to  be  pretty 
plain,  we  presently  passed  alongside  of  a  high 
bank  of  earth  to  which  our  guide  called  our 
attention. 

"  Just  ride  up  here  a  minute,"  said  he. 
'•  Now,  do  you  see  how  this  earth-bank  forms 
a  perfect  square,  measuring  about  two  hundred 
yards  each  way?  What  do  you  make  of 
that?" 

"It  was  evidently  built  up,"  said  I ;  "it  can't 
be  a  natural  formation.  But  what  the  earth 
was  piled  up  for,  I  can't  see." 

"  I  think  I  can,"  remarked  Dick.  "  If  I'm 
not  mistaken,  this  is  the  site  of  an  old  pueblo." 

•'  Just   what    I    think,"   responded    Antonio. 


172  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

"  An  old  pueblo  which  probably  stood  here  be- 
fore ever  the  Spaniards  came  to  the  countr}', 
and  has  been  melted  down  to  this  shapeless 
bank  by  the  rains  of  centuries.  This  valley 
must  have  supported  a  good-sized  population 
once — very  much  larger  than  at  present." 

"  It  looks  like  it,"  Dick  assented.  "  I  wonder 
where  they  got  their  water  from — for  I  suppose 
they  lived  mostly  by  agriculture,  as  the  Pueblos 
do  still.  Hasn't  the  padron  ever  tried  to  find 
the  old  source  of  supply  ?  " 

The  young  Mexican  shook  his  head.  "  No," 
said  he.  **  The  source  of  supply,  wherever  it 
was,  was  up  in  the  mountains  somewhere,  and 
in  spite  of  the  fact  that  if  he  could  find  it,  it 
would  increase  the  value  of  the  grant  a  thou- 
sand times,  he  daren't  go  to  look  for  it." 

"  My  !  What  a  chance  there  is  here " — 
Dick  began,  when  he  suddenly  checked  him- 
self "  Here's  some  one  coming,"  said  he.  "  Is 
this  the  padron  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  he  must  be  coming  to  see  who  you 
are.     I  hope  he  won't  make  himself  unpleasant." 

As  Antonio  spoke,  there  came  riding  toward 
us  a  square-set,  gray-haired  Mexican,  at  whom, 
as  he  approached,  we  gazed  with  much  interest. 
He  was  a   man   of  fifty,  or  thereabouts,  harsh- 


The   Padron  173 

featured  and  forbidding,  who  scowled  at  us  in  a 
manner  which  made  me,  at  least,  rather  wish  I 
had  not  come.  To  put  it  shortly  and  plainly, 
the  Seiior  Galvez  had,  in  fact,  the  most  truculent 
countenance  I  had  ever  seen  ;  and  his  first  re- 
mark to  his  nephew,  as  the  latter  advanced  to 
meet  him,  was  on  a  par  with  his  appearance. 

"  What  are  you  bringing  these  American  pigs 
here  for,  Antonio  ? "  he  growled,  in  Spanish. 
"  You  know  I  will  have  nothing  to  do  with 
them." 

Poor  Antonio  flushed  painfully  under  his 
brown  skin.  He  half  raised  his  hand  with  a 
deprecatory  gesture,  as  though  to  beg  the 
speaker  to  be  more  moderate,  while  he  glanced 
uneasily  at  us  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye  to 
see  if  we  had  understood. 

It  was  then  that  Dick  and  I  congratulated 
ourselves  on  having  accidentally  deceived  our 
friend  into  the  belief  that  we  did  not  speak 
Spanish.  Suppressing  our  natural  desire  to 
bandy  a  few  compliments  with  the  churlish 
padron,  we  put  on  an  expression  of  countenance 
as  stolid  and  vacant  as  if  we  had  been  indeed 
the  American  pigs  aforesaid — immensely  to  the 
comfort  of  the  younger  man,  as  it  was  easy 
to  see. 


174  The  Trail   of  the   Badger 

"  Do  not  be  harsh,  seiior,"  said  he.  "  They 
are  only  boys,  and  they  are  doing  no  harm 
here.  Moreover,"  he  went  on,  **  they  have 
brought  you  a  piece  of  information  which  you 
will  be  glad  to  have  : — El  Tejon  is  still  alive." 

The  elder  man  started ;  his  weather-beaten 
face  paled  a  little. 

"How  do  they  know  that?"  he  asked, 
suspiciously. 

Antonio  briefly  told  him  our  story. 

"  Hm  !  "  grunted  the  padron,  glowering  at  us 
from  under  his  bushy  eyebrows.  "  But  what 
are  these  boys  skulking  around  here  for?  They 
don't  pretend,  I  suppose,  that  they  have  come 
all  the  way  down  from  Mosby  just  to  tell  me 
they  have  seen  El  Tejon." 

"  Not  at  all,"  replied  Antonio,  with  consider- 
able spirit.  "  They  are  gentlemen,  and  they 
don't  pretend  anything.  That  bigger  one  of  the 
two,  the  freckled  one  with  the  hook-nose  and 
red  hair" — it  was  Dick  he  meant,  and  intense 
was  my  desire  to  wink  at  him  and  laugh — 
"  that  one  passed  through  here  before ;  he 
noticed  how  every  house  contained  its  copper 
bowl  and  dipper — just  as  I  did — and  he  has 
come  down  here  with  his  friend — just  as  I 
wanted   to   do — to   try  to   find   out  where  the 


The   Padron  175 

copper  came  from.  We  have  had  a  long  talk 
about  it,  and  we  have  concluded  that  it  prob- 
ably came  from  somewhere  up  on  the  north 
peak.  What  I  brought  them  down  here  for 
was  to  ask  you  whether  you  thought  The 
Badger  would  let  them  alone  if  they  went  up 
there — that's  all." 

"That's  all,  is  it?  Well,  perhaps  it  is.  But 
I'm  suspicious  of  strangers,  Antonio,  especially 
since " 

He  paused,  seemingly  considering  whether  he 
should  or  should  not  mention  the  subject  he  had 
in  mind,  but  at  length — evidently  supposing 
that  we  could  not  understand  what  he  was  say- 
ing— he  went  on  : 

•'  I  had  not  intended  to  say  anything  to  you 
about  it,  but  three  days  ago — the  day  you  rode 
over  to  Zapatero  to  spend  the  night — something 
occurred  here  which  makes  me  rather  uneasy. 
I  had  been  away  all  day  myself  that  day  and 
on  my  return  I  found  a  young  man  in  the  vil- 
lage who  had  come,  he  said,  from  Santa  Fe. 
For  a  young  man  to  come  to  this  out-of-the-way 
place,  all  alone,  from  Santa  Fe,  or  from  any- 
where else,  for  that  matter,  was  a  strange  thing  : 
it  made  me  suspicious  that  he  was  after  no 
good.     And    I    became    more    than   suspicious 


176  The  Trail   of  the  Badger 

when  I  found  that  he  had  spent  the  day  going 
from  one  house  to  another  inquiring  after  El 
Tejon  !  " 

"  Inquiring  after  El  Tejon  !  "  repeated  An- 
tonio. **  That  was  strange  ;  especially  consider- 
ing that  El  Tejon  has  been  practically  dead  for 
a  dozen  years.     Did  he  offer  any  explanation  ?  " 

"  No.  To  tell  the  truth,  I  did  not  give  him 
the  opportunity.  When  I  found  out  what  he 
was  doing,  how  he  had  slipped  into  the  village 
during  my  absence  and  had  gone  prying  about 
among  these  ignorant  peons,  asking  questions 
concerning  my  enemy,  I  was  so  enraged  that  I 
threatened  to  shoot  him  if  he  did  not  depart  at 
once.  I  made  a  mistake  there,  I  admit ;  if  I 
had  curbed  my  anger,  I  might  have  found  out 
what  his  object  was.  But  I  did  not,  so  there  is 
no  more  to  be  said." 

"  That  was  unfortunate,"  said  Antonio  ;  "  but, 
as  you  say,  it  can't  be  helped  now.  So  the 
stranger  went  off,  did  he?  Did  he  return 
to " 

"  No,  he  didn't,"  Galvez  interrupted,  "  or,  at 
any  rate,  not  immediately.  I'll  tell  you  how  I 
know.  I  was  so  distrustful  of  him  that  I  fol- 
lowed his  trail  next  morning — it  was  dark  when 
he  left,  and  I  couldn't  do  it  then.     It  was  an 


The  Padron  177 

easy  trail  to  follow,  for  his  horse  was  shod,  and 
ours,  of  course,  are  not.  It  led  eastward  for  a 
mile  and  tlien  turned  back,  circled  round  the 
village  and  went  up  into  the  north  mountain. 
I  have  not  seen  him,  nor  a  trace  of  him  since." 

"  It  is  a  strange  thing,"  said  Antonio,  thought- 
fully. "  What  was  the  young  man  like?  How 
old  ?     Was  he  a  Mexican  or  an  American?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  He  looked  like  an  American, 
though  he  spoke  Spanish  perfectly.  He  might 
be  twenty  years  old.  It  is  an  odd  thing,  An- 
tonio— and  it  is  that,  perhaps,  which  made  me 
speak  so  sharply  when  I  first  saw  these  new 
friends  of  yours — but  the  young  man  was  some- 
thing like  the  bigger  one  of  these  two  boys  :  the 
same  hook-nose  and  light-gray  eyes,  though  his 
hair  was  black  instead  of  red." 

"  A  strange  thing  altogether,"  said  Antonio, 
reflectively.  "  I  don't  wonder  you  feel  a  little 
uneasy." 

"  As  to  these  boys  here,"  the  padron  went  on, 
jerking  his  head  in  our  direction,  "  you  may  tell 
them  that  they  need  not  fear  The  Badger.  It  is 
only  I  who  have  cause  to  fear  him,  and  perhaps 
you,  as  my  nephew.  These  boys  may  go  where 
they  like  without  danger.  The  chances  are 
they  won't  see  El  Tejon — they  certainly  won't 


178  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

if  he  doesn't  want  to  be  seen.  And,  Antonio, 
just  thank  them  for  bringing  me  their  informa- 
tion, and  then  send  them  off." 

So  saying,  old  Galvez  turned  his  unmannerly 
back  on  us  and  rode  away. 

The  interview,  if  it  can  be  called  such — for 
the  padron  had  not  addressed  a  single  word  to 
us — being  plainly  at  an  end,  we  shook  hands 
with  our  friend,  Antonio,  and  having  thanked 
him  very  heartily  for  his  service,  we  set  off  for 
camp,  riding  fast,  in  our  hurry  to  get  back  be- 
fore darkness  should  overtake  us. 


CHAPTER  XI 

The  Spanish  Trail 

"  T~^ICK,"  said  I,  as  we  sat  together  that  even- 

-L-^  ing  beside  our  camp-fire,  "  what  do  you 
make  of  it  ?  That  was  a  queer  thing,  that 
young  fellow  coming  inquiring  for  El  Tejon.  I 
confess,  for  my  part,  I  can't  make  head  or  tail 
of  it." 

"  I  can't  either,"  replied  Dick ;  "  at  least,  as 
far  as  this  stranger  is  concerned.  I'm  quite  in 
the  dark  on  that  point.  As  to  the  padron  and 
The  Badger,  though,  that  seems  to  me  simple 
enough.  It  is  some  old  feud  between  the  two 
which  concerns  nobody  but  themselves." 

*'  That  is  how  it  strikes  me.  You  don't  think, 
then,  that  there  is  any  danger  to  us?" 

"  No,  I  don't.  In  fact,  I  feel  sure  of  it.  It  is 
just  a  personal  quarrel  of  long  standing  between 
those  two — that's  all.  I  have  no  more  fear  of 
El  Tejon  than  I  have  of  any  other  Mexican. 
All  the  same,  old  chap,  if  you  have  any  doubt 
about  it,  I'm  ready  to  quit  and  go  home  again." 

"  No,"  I  replied,  emphatically.  "  I  vote  we 
179 


i8o  The  Trail   of  the  Badger 

go  on.  And  I'll  tell  you  why,  Dick.  For  one 
thing,  I  always  did  hate  to  give  up." 

My  partner  nodded  appreciation. 

"  For  another  thing,  I  have  gathered  the 
notion  that  this  Badger  is  not  a  bad  fellow  ;  not 
at  all  the  kind  that  would  murder  a  man  in  his 
sleep  or  shoot  him  from  behind  a  rock.  The 
fact  that  he  let  old  Galvez  go  that  time  when  he 
had  him  helpless,  seems  to  me  pretty  good  evi- 
dence that  he  is  a  man  of  some  generosity  and 
above-boardness. " 

"  That's  a  fact,"  Dick  assented  ;  "  it  was  rather 
a  fine  action,  as  it  seems  to  me.  And  unless 
I'm  vastly  mistaken,  Frank,"  he  went  on,  "  if 
the  cases  had  been  reversed,  and  the  padron  had 
caught  The  Badger  as  The  Badger  caught  the 
padron,  it  would  have  been  all  up  with  El  Tejon. 
I  never  saw  a  harder-looking  specimen  in  my 
life  than  old  Galvez.  I  know,  if  he  were  my 
enemy,  I  should  be  mighty  sorry  to  fall  into  his 
hands." 

"  So  should  I ;  and  the  less  we  have  to  do  with 
him  the  better,  to  my  notion.  I  think  we  shall 
do  well  to  steer  clear  of  him." 

"  Yes  ;  and  there  won't  be  any  temptation  to 
go  near  him,  anyhow,  especially  as  Antonio 
won't  be  there  to  act  as  a  buffer.     So,  we  decide 


The  Spanish  Trail  i8i 

to  go  on,  do  we?"  Dick  concluded,  as  he  arose 
to  pat  two  big  logs  on  the  fire  for  the  night. 
"  All  right.  Then  we'll  get  out  to-morrow 
morning.  We'll  take  the  line  of  the  old  trail 
and  follow  it  up  into  the  mountain  as  far  as  it 
goes — or  as  far  as  we  can,  perhaps  I  should  say." 

"  Very  well,"  I  agreed.  "  And  we  may  as 
well  abandon  this  camp,  take  old  Fritz  and  all 
our  belongings  with  us,  and  find  another  place 
more  suitable  higher  up  the  mountain." 

"  Yes  ;  so  now  to  bed." 

We  were  up  betimes  next  morning,  and  hav- 
ing packed  our  traps  away  we  went,  Dick  in  the 
lead,  Fritz  following,  and  I  bringing  up  the 
rear.  Climbing  over  the  big  ridge  from  whose 
crest  we  had  surveyed  the  valley  the  day  before, 
we  rode  down  its  other  side  to  the  line  of  the 
old  trail,  and  there,  turning  to  the  right,  we  fol- 
lowed it  as  it  gradually  ascended,  until  presently 
at  the  head  of  the  ravine  the  trail,  greatly  to  our 
perplexity,  came  to  an  end  altogether. 

The  ravine  itself  had  become  so  narrow  and 
its  sides  so  precipitous  that  there  appeared  to  be 
no  way  of  climbing  out  of  it,  and  we  began  to 
have  our  doubts  as  to  whether  it  could  reall}^  be 
an  old  trail  that  we  had  been  following  after  all, 
when   Dick,  spying  about,  discovered  a  much- 


1 82  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

washed-out  crevice  on  the  right-hand  side,  so 
grown  up  with  trees  and  brush  as  to  be  hardly 
distinguishable. 

"  Frank,"  said  he,  "  they  must  have  come 
down  here — there's  no  other  way  that  I  can  see. 
Wait  a  moment  till  I  get  up  there  and  see  if  the 
trail  isn't  visible  again  up  on  top." 

It  was  a  pretty  stifi'  scramble  to  get  up,  but  as 
soon  as  he  had  reached  the  top  my  partner 
shouted  down  to  me  to  come  up — he  had  found 
the  trail  once  more. 

If  it  had  been  a  stiff  climb  for  Dick's  horse,  it 
was  stiffer  still  for  old  Fritz  with  his  bulky 
pack.  But  Fritz  was  a  first-rate  animal  for 
mountain  work,  having  had  lots  of  practice,  and 
being  allowed  to  choose  his  own  course  and  take 
his  own  time  he  made  the  ascent  without 
damaging  himself  or  his  burden. 

As  soon  as  I  had  rejoined  him,  Dick  pointed 
out  to  me  the  line  of  the  trail,  which,  bearing 
away  northward  now,  was  much  more  distinct 
than  it  had  been  down  below.  For  one  thing, 
the  ground  here  was  a  great  deal  harder  ;  and  for 
another,  being  well  sheltered  by  the  pine  woods, 
the  trail  had  not  drifted  full  of  sand  as  it  had 
out  on  the  unprotected  valley.  There  were,  it  is 
true,  frequent  places  where  the  rains  of  many 


The  Spanish  Trail  183 

years  had  washed  the  soil  down  the  hillsides  and 
covered  it  up,  but  in  general  it  was  easily  distin- 
guishable as  it  went  winding  along  the  base  of 
the  mountain  proper,  at  the  point  where  the 
steeper  slopes  merged  into  the  great  spurs  which 
projected  out  into  the  valley. 

The  distinctness  of  the  old  trail  was,  indeed,  a 
surprise  to  me,  its  line  was  so  much  easier  to  follow 
than  I  had  expected.  If  it  continued  to  be  as 
plain  as  this,  we  should  have  no  trouble  in 
keeping  it ;  and  so  I  remarked  to  my  com- 
panion. 

"  That's  true,"  Dick  assented,  adding  :  "  I'll 
tell  you  what,  Frank  :  this  must  surely  have 
been  a  government  enterprise.  Just  see  how 
much  work  has  been  expended  on  this  trail — 
and  needlessly,  I  should  say — no  private  in- 
dividual or  corporation  would  have  taken  the 
trouble  to  make  a  carefully  graded  road  like  this 
— for  that  is  what  it  really  was  apparentl3^  It 
must  have  been  some  manager  handling 
government  funds  and  not  Avorrying  himself 
much  about  the  amount  he  spent." 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder,"  said  I. 

"Just  notice,"  Dick  continued,  pointing  out 
the  places  with  his  finger.  "  See  what  useless 
expenditure  they  made.     Whenever  they  came 


184  The  Trail  of  the   Badger 

to  a  dip,  big  or  little,  instead  of  going  down  one 
side  and  up  the  other,  as  any  ordinary  human 
being  would  do,  they  carried  their  road  round 
the  end  of  the  gully — -just  as  though  a  loaded 
burro  would  object  to  coming  up  a  little  hill 
like  this  one,  for  instance,  here  in  front  of  us." 

"  It  does  seem  rather  ridiculous,"  I  assented. 
"  And  they  must  have  laid  out  their  line  with 
care,  too,  for,  if  you  notice,  Dick,  it  goes  on 
climbing  up  the  mountain  with  a  grade  which 
seems  to  be  perfectly  uniform  as  far  as  we  can 
see  it.  It  is  more  like  a  railroad  grade  than  a 
trail.  It  isn't  possible,  is  it,  Dick,"  I  asked,  as 
the  thought  suddenly  occurred  to  me,  "  it  isn't 
possible  that  they  can  have  used  wheeled 
vehicles?  " 

"  Hm  !  "  replied  my  companion,  rubbing  his 
chin  thoughtfully.  "  No,  I  think  not.  It  would 
be  extremely  improbable,  to  say  the  least.  No, 
I  think  it  is  more  likely  to  be  as  I  said  :  some 
lordly  government  official,  spending  government 
funds,  and  not  troubling  himself  whether  the 
income  would  warrant  the  expenditure  or 
not." 

"  I  suppose  that  was  probably  it,"  said  I. 
"There's  one  thing  sure,  Dick,"  I  added:  "if 
the  income  did  warrant  the  expenditure,  that 


The  Spanish  Trail  185 

old  copper  mine  must  have  been  a  staver  and  no 
mistake." 

"  That's  a  fact.  Well,  come  on  ;  let  us  go 
ahead  and  see  where  the  trail  takes  us." 

This  following  of  the  trail  was  a  perfectly 
simple  matter ;  the  animals  themselves,  in  fact, 
took  to  it  and  kept  to  it  as  naturally  as  though 
even  they  recognized  it  as  a  road.  So,  on  we 
went,  climbing  gradually  higher  at  every  step, 
when,  on  rounding  the  shoulder  of  a  big  spur, 
we  were  brought  to  a  sudden  and  most  unex- 
pected halt  by  coming  plump  upon  the  edge  of 
a  deep  and  very  narrow  canon.  Right  up  to  the 
very  brink  of  this  great  chasm  the  trail  led  us, 
and  there,  of  necessity,  it  abruptly  ended. 

This  gorge,  which  was  perhaps  a  thousand  feet 
deep,  and,  as  I  have  said,  extremely  narrow — 
not  more  than  thirty  feet  wide  at  the  point 
where  we  had  struck  it — came  down  from  the 
north  face  of  the  mountain,  and,  as  we  could  see 
from  where  we  stood,  ran  out  eastward  into  the 
plain.  It  was  undoubtedly  the  stream  upon 
which  we  had  camped  when  we  had  come 
across  the  valley  two  days  before. 

Looking  the  other  way — to  the  left,  that  is  : 
up  stream — our  view  was  limited,  but  from  what 
we  could  see  of  it,  the  country  in  that  direction 


I  86  The  Trail  of  the   Badger 

bade  fair  to  be  inaccessible,  for  horses,  at  least ; 
while  as  to  the  canon  itself,  it  curved  first  to  the 
left  and  then  to  the  right  in  such  a  manner  that 
we  could  not  see  to  the  bottom.  Moreover  a 
large  rock,  rising  from  the  edge  of  the  gorge, 
and  in  fact  overhanging  it  a  little,  cut  off  our 
view  up  stream. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  chasm  the  ground 
rose  high  and  rocky,  an  exceedingly  rough 
piece  of  country  ;  for  though  it  was  in  general 
well  clothed  with  trees,  w^e  could  see  in  a  score 
of  places  great  bare-topped  ridges  and  pinnacles 
of  rock  projecting  high  above  the  somber 
woods. 

"  Dick,"  said  I,  "  this  looks  rather  like  the 
end  of  things.     What  are  we  to  do  now  ?  " 

"  The  end  of  things  !  "  cried  Dick.  **  Not  a 
bit  of  it !  Don't  you  see,  on  the  other  side  of 
the  canon,  exactly  opposite,  that  little  ravine 
which  goes  winding  up  the  mountain  until  it 
loses  itself  among  the  trees  ?  Well,  that  is  the 
continuation  of  the  trail.  Come  down  here  to 
the  edge  and  I'll  show  you." 

Dismounting  from  our  horses,  we  advanced  as 
near  the  rim  of  the  chasm  as  we  dared,  when 
Dick,  pointing  across  to  the  other  side,  said  : 

"  Look  there,  Frank,  about  a  foot  below  the 


The  Spanish  Trail  187 

top.  Do  you  see  those  two  square  niches  cut  in 
the  face  of  the  rocli  ?  This  place  was  spanned 
by  a  bridge  once,  and  those  two  niches  are 
where  the  ends  of  the  big  stringers  rested." 

"  It  does  look  like  it !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  If 
there  are  other  similar  niches  on  this  side,  that 
would  settle  it.  Take  hold  of  my  feet,  will  you, 
while  I  stick  my  head  over  the  edge  and  see?  " 

With  Dick  firmly  clasping  my  ankle  by  way 
of  precaution,  I  crept  to  the  rim  and  craned  my 
neck  out  over  the  precipice  as  far  as  I  dared 
venture.  As  we  had  expected,  there  were  the 
two  corresponding  niches,  while  about  ten  feet 
below  them  were  two  others,  the  existence 
of  which  puzzled  me.  Squirming  carefully  back 
again,  I  rose  to  my  feet  and  told  Dick  what  I 
had  seen. 

"  Two  others,  eh  ?  "  said  he.  "  That's  easily 
explained.  Look  across  again  and  you  will  see 
that  there  are  two  in  the  face  of  the  opposite 
cliff  to  match  them.  Those  people  not  only 
laid  two  big  stringers  across  the  canon,  but  they 
supported  them  from  below  with  four  stays  set 
in  those  lower  holes." 

"  That  must  be  it !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  They  did 
things  well,  didn't  they — it  is  on  a  par  with  the 
work  they  expended   on    the  trail.     The  trail 


1 88  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

itself,  of  course,  went  on  up  that  little  ravine 
and  has  since  been  washed  out  by  the  rains." 

"  Yes ;  and  the  bridge  has  rotted  and  fallen 
into  the  stream  ;  unless  they  destroyed  it  pur- 
posely when  they  abandoned  the  mine." 

"  Well,  Dick,"  said  I.  "  It  seems  fairly  sure 
that  the  mine  was  over  there,  somewhere  in  the 
rough  country  on  the  other  side  of  the  canon. 
The  question  is,  how  are  we  to  get  over  there?  " 

"  Yes,  that's  the  question  all  right.  We  can't 
get  down  here.  That  is  plain  enough.  We 
shall  have  to  find  some  other  wa}^  And  that 
there  is  another  way  is  pretty  certain.  See 
here  !  This  canon  comes  down  from  the  north 
side  of  the  mountain,  runs  out  into  the  valle}' 
to  the  point  where  we  struck  it  day  before 
yesterday,  doubles  back,  and  joins  the  streams 
coming  down  from  Mescalero,  as  well  as  those 
others  which  flow  down  from  the  north  side  of 
the  peak." 

"Well?" 

"  Well,  this  piece  of  country  before  us  is  there- 
fore a  sort  of  island,  surrounded,  or  nearly 
surrounded,  by  canons." 

I  nodded.  "  Yes,"  said  I.  "  Or  more  like  a 
fortress  with  a  thousand-foot  moat  all  round  it." 

"  Well,"  continued  my  partner,  "  the  original 


The  Spanish  Trail  189 

discoverers  of  the  mine,  whether  Indians  or 
Spaniards,  did  not  cross  here  by  a  bridge,  of 
course  ;  they  climbed  up  from  the  bottom  of 
one  of  these  canons  somewhere,  and  at  first, 
probably,  brought  out  the  copper  the  same  way, 
until,  finding  how  much  easier  it  would  be  to 
come  across  here,  they  built  a  bridge  and  made 
this  road  for  the  purpose." 

"  That  sounds  reasonable,"  I  assented.  "  So 
if  we  want  to  find  the  place  where  they  used  to 
get  up,  we  must  climb  down  into  the  bottom  of 
the  canon  ourselves  and  hunt  for  it." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Dick.  "  And  from  the  look 
of  it,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  we  don't  have  to  go 
all  the  way  back  to  our  old  camping-place  in 
order  to  get  down  !  " 

"  Hm  ! "  said  I,  puckering  up  my  lips  and 
rubbing  my  chin.  "  I  hope  we  don't  have  to  go 
that  far  ;  but  if  we  must,  we  must.  Anyhow, 
Dick,  before  we  go  all  the  way  down  to  the 
bottom  of  the  mountain  again,  let  us  climb  up 
above  this  big  rock  here  and  take  a  look  up 
stream.  It  is  just  possible  there  may  be  a  way 
down  in  that  direction." 

"  Very  well,"  replied  my  partner.  "  I  don't 
suppose  there  is,  but  we'll  try  it  anyhow." 

Leaving  our  horses  standing,  we  went  back  a 


190  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

little  way  along  the  trail,  and  climbing  upward, 
presently  reached  a  point  level  with  the  top  of 
the  big  rock  which  rose  above  the  edge  of  the 
gorge.  There  we  found  several  little  gullies 
leading  down  to  the  ravine,  and  Dick  taking 
one  of  them  and  I  another,  we  thus  became 
separated  for  a  few  minutes.  Only  for  a  few 
minutes,  however,  for  very  soon  I  heard  my 
partner  hailing  me  to  come  back.  From  the 
tone  of  his  voice  I  felt  sure  he  had  discovered 
something. 

"  What  is  it,  Dick  ?  "  I  asked.  "  Found  a  way 
down  ?  " 

"  That's  what  I  have,  Frank,  I'm  pretty  sure. 
Come  here  and  look  I  " 


CHAPTER  XII 

The  Badger 

A  SHORT  distance  down  Dick's  gully  was  a 
great  slab  of  stone  standing  on  edge,  which, 
leaning  over  until  its  upper  end  touched  the  op- 
posite wall,  formed  a  natural  arch  about  as  high 
as  a  church  door.  Through  this  vaulted  pas- 
sage Dicli  led  the  way.  In  about  twenty  steps 
we  came  out  again  upon  the  brink  of  the  chasm, 
and  then  it  was  that  my  partner,  with  some 
natural  exultation,  pointed  out  to  me  the  re- 
markable discovery  he  had  made. 

In  the  face  of  the  cliff  was  a  sort  of  ledge, 
varying  in  width  from  ten  feet  to  about  double 
as  much,  which,  with  a  pretty  steep,  though 
pretty  regular  pitch,  continued  downward  until 
it  disappeared  around  the  bend  in  the  gorge. 
Unless  the  ledge  should  narrow  very  consider- 
ably we  should  have  no  trouble  in  getting  down, 
for  there  was  room  in  plenty  not  only  for  our- 
selves but  for  our  animals  also — even  for  old 
Fritz,  pack  and  all. 

'♦  Why,  Dick  !  "  I  cried.     "  We  can  easily  get 
191 


192  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

down  here  !  I  wonder  if  this  wasn't  the  original 
road  taken  by  the  pack-trains." 

"  It  was,"  replied  Dick  ;  "  at  least,  I  feel  pretty 
sure  it  was — and  it  was  used  for  a  long  time,  too." 

"Why  do  you  think  so?"  I  asked.  "You 
speak  as  though  j^ou  felt  pretty  certain,  Dick, 
but  for  my  part  I  don't  see  why." 

"Don't  3'ou?  Why,  it's  very  plain.  Look 
here  !  Do  you  see,  close  to  the  outer  edge  of  the 
shelf,  a  sort  of  trough  worn  in  the  rock  ?  Do 
you  know  what  that  is?  If  I'm  not  very  much 
mistaken,  it  is  the  trail  of  the  pack-burros. 
There  must  have  been  a  good  many  of  them,  and 
they  must  have  gone  up  and  down  for  a  good 
many  years  to  wear  such  a  trail ;  though,  of 
course,  it  has  been  enlarged  since  by  the  rain- 
water running  down  it." 

"  Well,  Dick,"  said  I,  "  I  still  don't  see  why 
you  should  conclude  that  this  is  the  trail  of  a 
pack-train.  It  seems  to  me  much  more  likely  to 
be  due  to  water  only.  In  the  first  place,  though 
there  is  room  enough  and  to  spare  on  the  ledge, 
your  supposed  trail  is  on  the  very  outer  edge, 
where  a  false  step  would  send  the  burro  head- 
first into  the  canon  ;  and  in  the  next  place,  it 
keeps  to  the  very  edge,  no  matter  whether  the 
ledge  is  wide  or  narrow." 


The  Badger  193 

"That's  exactly  the  point,"  explained  Dick. 
"  It  is  just  that  very  thing  wliich  makes  me  feel 
so  sure  that  this  is  the  trail  of  a  pack-train. 
You've  never  seen  pack-burrus  at  work  in  the 
mountains,  have  you  ?  Well,  I  have  lots  of 
times  :  they  are  frequently  used  to  carry  ore 
down  from  the  mines.  If  you  had  seen  them, 
you  could  not  have  helped  noticing  the  habit 
they  have  of  walking  on  the  outside  of  a  ledge  like 
this,  where  there  is  a  precipice  on  one  side  and  a 
cliff  on  the  other.  A  burro  may  be  a  '  donkey,' 
but  he  understands  his  own  business.  He  knows 
that  if  he  touches  his  pack  against  the  rock  he 
will  be  knocked  over  the  precipice,  and  he  has 
learned  his  lesson  so  well  that  it  makes  no  dif- 
ference how  wide  the  ledge  may  be — he  will  keep 
as  far  away  from  the  rock  as  he  can.  As  to  a 
false  step,  that  doesn't  enter  into  his  calcula- 
tions :  a  burro  doesn't  make  a  false  step — there 
is  no  surer-footed  beast  in  existence,  I  should 
think,  excepting,  possibly,  the  mountain-sheep." 

*'  I  never  thought  of  all  that,"  said  I.  "  Then 
I  expect  you  are  right,  Dick,  and  this  is  an  old 
trail  after  all.  What  is  your  idea?  To  follow 
it  down,  I  suppose." 

"  Yes,  certainly.  Our  animals  won't  make 
any  bones  about  going  down  a  wide  path  like 


194  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

this.  They  are  all  used  to  the  mountains.  So 
let  us  get  them  at  once  and  start  down." 

Dick  was  right.  Our  horses,  each  led  by  the 
bridle,  followed  us  without  hesitation,  while  old 
Fritz,  half  a  burro  himself,  took  at  once  to  the 
trail  which  one  of  his  ancestors,  perhaps,  had 
helped  to  make. 

Without  trouble  or  mishap,  we  descended  the 
steeply-pitching  ledge  down  to  the  margin  of 
the  creek,  crossed  over  to  the  other  side,  and 
continued  on  our  way  up  stream  over  the  slope 
of  decomposed  rock  fallen  from  the  towering 
cliff  which  rose  at  least  a  thousand  feet  above 
us — the  cliff  being  now  on  our  right  hand  and 
the  stream  on  our  left. 

This  sloping  bank  was  scantily  covered  with 
trees,  and  among  them  we  threaded  our  way, 
still  following  the  trail,  which,  however,  down 
here  had  lost  any  resemblance  to  a  made  road, 
and  had  become  a  mere  thread,  more  like  a 
disused  cow-path  than  anything  else. 

Presently,  we  found  that  the  canon  began  to 
widen,  and  soon  afterward  the  cliff  along  whose 
base  we  had  been  skirting,  suddenly  fell  away 
to  the  right  in  a  great  sweeping  curve,  forming 
an  immense  natural  amphitheatre,  enclosing  a 
good-sized   stretch  of  grass-land,   with   willows 


The  Badger  195 

and  cottonwoods  fringing  the  nearer  bank  of 
the  stream. 

As  we  sat  on  our  horses  surveying  the  scene, 
we  found  ourselves  confronting  at  last  the  im- 
posing north  face  of  the  mountain.  Up  toward 
its  summit  we  could  see  the  great  semi-circular 
cliff  which  we  supposed  to  be  the  upper  half  of 
an  old  crater,  while  the  country  below  it,  bare, 
rocky  and  much  broken  up,  was  exceedingly 
rough  and  precipitous. 

Starting,  apparently,  from  the  neighborhood 
of  this  crater,  there  came  down  the  mountain  a 
second  very  narrow  and  very  deep  gorge,  whose 
waters,  when  there  were  any,  emptied  into  the 
stream  we  had  been  following ;  the  two  canons 
being  separated  by  a  high,  narrow  rib  of  rock — 
a  mere  wedge.  Curiously  enough,  however,  this 
second  canon  did  not  carry  a  stream,  though  we 
could  see  the  shimmer  of  two  or  three  pools  as 
they  caught  the  reflection  of  the  sky  down  there 
in  the  bottom  of  its  gloomy  depths. 

"  Well,  Dick,"  said  I,  "  I  don't  see  any  sign 
yet  of  a  pathway  up  to  the  top  of  this  '  island ' 
of  yours.  This  basin  is  merely  an  enlargement 
of  the  canon  ;  the  walls  are  just  as  high  and 
just  as  straight-up-and-down  as  ever." 

"  Yes,    I   see   that   plainly   enough,"   replied 


196  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

Dick.  "  Yet  there  must  be  a  way  up  some- 
where. Those  pack-trains  didn't  come  down 
here  for  nothing.  We  shall  find  a  break  in 
the  wall  presently — up  in  that  gorge,  there,  it 
must  be,  too.  So  let  us  go  on.  Hark  !  What's 
that?" 

We  sat  still  and  listened.  The  whole  atmos- 
phere seemed  to  vibrate  with  a  low  hum,  the 
cause  of  which  we  could  not  understand.  It 
kept  on  for  five  minutes,  perhaps,  and  then 
died  out  again. 

''  What  was  it,  Dick  ?  "  said  I.     "  Wind  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  it  must  have  been,"  replied  my 
companion  ;  "  though  there  isn't  a  breath  stir- 
ring down  here.  If  the  sky  had  not  been  so 
perfectly  clear  all  morning  I  should  have  said  it 
was  a  flood  coming.  It  must  have  been  wind, 
though,  I  suppose." 

Satisfied  that  this  was  the  cause,  we  thought 
no  more  of  it,  but,  taking  up  the  trail  once 
more,  we  followed  it  down  to  the  mouth  of  the 
second  canon,  and  there  at  the  edge  of  the  water- 
course all  trace  of  it  ceased. 

"  That  seems  to  settle  it,"  remarked  Dick. 
"  You  see,  Frank,  the  walls  of  this  canon  are  so 
steep  and  its  bed  is  so  filled  with  great  boulders 
that  even  a  burro  could  get  no  further.     The 


The  Badger  197 

copper  must  have  been  carried  down  to  this 
point  on  men's  backs,  and  if  so,  it  was  not 
carried  any  great  distance  probably.  The  mine 
must  be  somewhere  pretty  near  now  ;  we  shan't 
have  to  search  mucli  further,  I  think,  for  a  way 
up  this  right-hand  cliff.  Let  us  unsaddle  here, 
where  the  horses  can  get  plent}'  of  grass,  and  go 
on  up  on  foot." 

The  ascent  of  the  chasm  was  no  easy  task,  we 
found,  but,  weaving  our  way  between  the  boul- 
ders which  strewed  its  bed,  up  we  went,  until 
presently  we  came  to  a  place  where  some  time 
or  another  a  great  slice  of  the  wall,  about  an 
eighth  of  a  mile  in  length,  falling  down,  had 
blocked  it  completely,  forming  an  immense  dam 
nearly  a  hundred  feet  high.  It  must  have  been 
many  years  since  it  fell,  for  its  surface  was  well 
grown  up  with  trees,  though  none  of  them  were 
of  any  great  size.  It  seemed  probable,  too,  that 
the  base  of  the  dam  must  be  composed  of  large 
fragments  of  rock,  for,  though  there  was  no 
stream  in  the  bed  of  the  gorge,  it  was  very  plain 
that  water  did  sometimes  run  down  it.  If  so, 
however,  it  was  equally  plain  that  it  must 
squeeze  its  way  through  the  crevices  between 
the  foundation  rocks,  for  there  was  no  sign  at 
all  that  it  had  ever  run  over  the  top. 


198  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

Scrambling  up  this  mass  of  earth  and  rocks, 
we  went  on,  keeping  a  sharp  lookout  for  some 
sign  of  a  pathway  up  the  cliff  on  our  right, 
but  still  seeing  nothing  of  the  sort,  when  pres- 
ently we  reached  the  upper  face  of  the  dam, 
and  there  for  a  moment  we  stopped. 

Beneath  us  lay  a  stretch  of  the  ravine,  form- 
ing a  basin  about  two  hundred  yards  long,  in 
the  bottom  of  which  were  three  or  four  pools 
of  clear  water.  At  the  upper  end  of  this  basin 
was  a  perpendicular  cliff,  barring  all  further 
advance  in  that  direction,  over  which,  in  some 
seasons  of  the  year,  the  water  evidently  poured 
— sometimes  in  considerable  volume  apparently, 
judging  from  the  manner  in  which  the  sides  of 
the  basin  had  been  undermined.  The  sides 
themselves  continued  to  be  just  as  unscalable 
as  ever  ;  in  spite  of  Dick's  assurance  that  we 
should  find  a  way  up,  it  was  apparent  at  a 
glance  that  there  was  neither  crack  nor  crevice 
by  which  one  could  ascend. 

"  Well  ! "  cried  my  partner,  in  a  tone  of 
desperation.  "  This  does  beat  me  !  I  felt  certain 
that  the  trail  would  lead  us  to  some  pathway 
up  the  cliff;  but,  as  it  does  not,  what  does  it 
come  down  here  for  at  all  ?  " 

**  There  is  only  one  reason  that  I  can  think 


The   Badger  199 

of,"  I  replied,  "  and  that  is  that  they  must  have 
come  down  here  for  water — there  is  probably 
none  to  be  found  up  on  top  of  the  '  island.'  " 

"That  must  be  it,  Frank.  Yes,  I  expect 
you've  struck  it.  And  in  that  case  the  path- 
way we  have  been  hunting  for  must  be  down 
stream  from  the  site  of  the  old  bridge  after  all." 

"  Yes.  So  we  may  as  well  go  back  to-morrow 
morning,  I  suppose,  and  start  downward.  It 
is  rather  late  to  go  back  now— and  besides, 
there  is  no  water  up  there  :  we  had  better  camp 
here  for  to-night,  at  any  rate." 

"  That's  true.  Well,  as  we  have  some  hours 
of  daylight  yet — if  you  can  call  this  daylight 
down  here  in  this  narrow  crack — let  us  climb 
down  the  face  of  the  dam  and  examine  the 
basin  before  we  give  up  and  go  back,  so  as  to 
make  quite  sure  that  there  is  no  way  up  the 
side." 

Accordingly,  having  clambered  down,  we 
walked  up  the  middle  of  the  basin,  our  eyes 
carefully  scanning  the  wall  on  our  right,  when, 
having  traversed  about  three-quarters  of  its 
length,  we  suddenly  heard  again  that  humming 
noise  which  we  had  taken  for  a  wind-storm 
among  the  pines.  With  one  accord  we  both 
stopped  dead  and  listened.     The  noise  was  de- 


200  The  Trail   of  the  Badger 

cidedly  louder  than  it  had  been  before,  and 
moreover  it  appeared  to  be  increasing  in  volume 
every  second. 

"  Frank  !  "  exclaimed  my  companion.  "  I 
don't  like  the  sound  of  it  J  It  seems  to  me 
suspiciously  like  water !  Let  us  get  out  of 
here !  This  is  no  place  to  be  caught  by  a 
flood  !  " 

We  turned  to  run,  but  before  we  had  gone 
five  steps  we  heard  a  roar  behind  us,  and  cast- 
ing a  glance  backward,  we  saw  to  our  horror 
an  immense  wall  of  water,  ten  feet  high,  leap 
from  the  ledge  at  the  end  of  the  basin  and  fall 
to  the  bottom  with  a  prodigious  splash. 

In  one  second  the  whole  floor  of  the  basin 
was  awash.  In  another  second  our  feet  were 
knocked  from  under  us,  when,  without  the 
power  of  helping  ourselves,  we  were  tumbled 
about  and  swept  hither  and  thither  at  the  ca- 
price of  the  rapidly  deepening  flood. 

Happily  for  myself,  for  I  was  no  swimmer, 
I  was  carried  right  down  to  the  dam,  where,  by 
desperate  exertions,  I  was  able  to  scramble  up 
out  of  reach  of  the  water.  Dick,  however,  less 
fortunate  than  I,  was  carried  off*  to  one  side,  and 
when  I  caught  sight  of  him  again  he  was  being 
swept  rapidly  along  under  the  right-hand  wall 


The  Badger  201 

— looking  up  stream — in  whose  smooth  surface 
there  was  no  chance  of  finding  a  hold.  As  I 
watched  him,  my  heart  in  my  mouth,  he  was 
carried  back  close  to  the  fall,  where  the  violence 
of  the  water,  novj.  several  feet  deep,  tossed  him 
about  like  a  straw. 

Half  paralyzed  with  fear  lest  my  companion 
should  be  drowned  before  my  eyes,  I  stood  there 
on  the  rocks,  powerless  to  go  to  his  aid,  hoping 
only  that  he  might  be  swept  down  near  enough 
to  enable  me  to  catch  hold  of  him,  when,  of  a 
sudden,  there  occurred  an  event  so  astounding 
that  for  a  moment  I  could  hardly  tell  whether 
I  ought  to  believe  my  own  eyes  or  not. 

Out  from  the  wall  on  the  left,  up  near  the  fall, 
there  shot  a  great  dark  body,  which,  with  a 
noiseless  splash,  disappeared  under  the  water. 
The  next  moment  a  man's  head  bobbed  up,  a 
big,  shaggy,  bearded  head,  the  owner  of  which 
with  vigorous  strokes  sw^am  toward  Dick  and 
seized  him  by  the  collar.  Then,  swimming  with 
the  power  of  a  steam-tug,  he  bore  down  upon 
the  dam,  clutched  a  projecting  rock,  drew  him- 
self up,  and  with  a  strength  I  had  never  before 
seen  in  a  human  being,  he  lifted  Dick  out  of  the 
water  with  one  hand — his  left — and  set  him  up 
on  the  bank. 


202  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

Running  to  the  spot,  I  seized  hold  of  my 
partner,  who,  almost  played  out,  staggered  and 
swayed  about,  and  helped  him  further  up  out  of 
reach  of  the  water.  Then,  turning  round,  I  was 
advancing  to  thank  his  rescuer,  when,  for  the 
first  time,  I  saw  that  the  man  was  almost  a 
dwarf — in  height,  at  least — though  his  astonish- 
ing strength  was  indicated  in  his  magnificent 
chest  and  arms. 

"  The  Badger  !  "  I  cried,  involuntarily. 

At  the  sound  of  that  name  the  man  turned 
short  round,  and  without  a  word  leaped  into  the 
water  again.  Sweeping  back  under  the  right- 
hand  wall,  he  presently  turned  across  the  pool 
and  struck  out  for  the  opposite  side.  Ten 
seconds  later  he  had  disappeared,  having  seem- 
ingly swum  through  the  very  face  of  the  cliff 
itself  I 


CHAPTER  XIII 

The  King  Philip  Mine 

I  THINK  it  is  safe  to  say  that  Dick  and  I  were 
at  that  moment  the  two  most  astonished  boys 
in  the  State  of  Colorado. 

Where  had  the  man  sprung  from  ?  And  how 
had  he  disappeared  again  ?  There  must  be,  of 
course,  some  opening  in  the  rock  which  we  had 
failed  to  notice  ;  a  circumstance  easily  explained 
by  the  fact  that  we  had  not  gone  far  enough  up 
the  basin,  and  by  the  added  fact  that  our  atten- 
tion had  been  fixed  upon  the  opposite  wall. 

Then,  again,  though  the  identity  of  the  man 
could  hardly  be  doubted,  why  should  he  take 
offence,  as  he  seemed  to  do,  at  being  addressed  as 
"The  Badger"? 

This  was  a  question  to  which  we  could  not  find 
an  answer ;  and,  indeed,  for  the  moment  we 
postponed  any  attempt  to  do  so,  for  our  atten- 
tion was  too  much  taken  up  by  the  action  of  the 
water,  which,  continuing  to  rise  with  great 
rapidity,  forced  us  to  retreat  higher  and  higher 
up  the  dam. 

203 


204  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

For  about  half  an  hour  it  thus  continued  to 
rise,  until  there  must  have  been  at  least  fifteen 
feet  of  it  in  the  basin,  by  the  end  of  which  time 
we  noticed  a  sudden  diminution  in  the  amount 
coming  over  the  fall.  A  few  minutes  later  the 
flow  had  ceased  altogether,  when  the  water  in 
the  pool  at  once  began  to  subside  again,  though 
far  less  rapidly  than  it  had  risen. 

Our  first  impulse  after  our  narrow  escape 
from  drowning  had  been  to  run  to  the  other  end 
of  the  dam  and  get  back  forthwith  to  our  horses, 
but  this  we  had  found  to  be  rather  too  risky  an 
undertaking  to  attempt,  for  the  water,  coming 
out  from  under  the  dam,  was  rushing  down  the 
bed  of  the  caiion,  seething  and  foaming  between 
the  obstructing  boulders  in  such  a  fashion  that 
we  decided  that  discretion  would  be  a  good  deal 
the  better  part  of  valor — that  it  would  be  an  act 
of  wisdom  to  wait  a  bit. 

Moreover,  when  the  flood,  leaping  from  the 
cliff*,  had  bowled  us  over  in  such  unceremonious 
style,  we  had  had  our  rifles  in  our  hands,  and  as 
those  indispensable  weapons  were  at  that  mo- 
ment lying  under  fifteen  feet  of  water,  there  was 
nothing  for  it  but  to  wait  till  the  pool  drained 
off"  if  we  wished  to  recover  them. 

As  there  was  no  telling  how  long  we  might 


The  King   Philip  Mine  205 

have  to  wait,  and  as  we  were  both  wet  through 
and  very  cold — Dick  being  besides  still  shaky 
from  his  recent  buffeting — I  collected  a  lot  of 
dead  wood  and  started  a  roaring  fire,  before 
whose  cheerful  blaze  our  clothes  soon  dried 
out  and  our  spirits  rose  again  to  their  normal 
level. 

It  was  then  that  I  first  fully  appreciated  the 
value  of  my  partner's  habit  of  carrying  matches 
in  a  water-tight  box— a  habit  I  strongly  recom- 
mend to  anybody  camping  out  in  these  moun- 
tains. 

For  three  hours  we  waited,  by  which  time  as 
we  guessed  there  remained  not  more  than  a  foot 
of  water  in  the  pool.  I  had  gone  down  to  meas- 
ure it  with  a  stick,  and  was  leaning  with  my 
hand  against  the  smooth,  w^et  wall  on  my  right, 
when  I  heard  sounds  as  of  a  human  voice  speak- 
ing very  faintly  and  indistinctly.  The  sounds 
seemed  to  come  from  the  rock  where  my  hand 
rested,  and  putting  my  ear  against  it,  I  plainly 
heard  a  strange  voice  say,  "  Hallo,  boys  !  " 

"  Hallo  !  "  I  called  out,  at  the  top  of  my  voice, 
startled  into  an  explosive  shout.  "  Who  are 
you  ?     Where  are  you  ?  " 

"Who's  that  you're  talking  to?"  cried  Dick, 
springing  to  his  feet  and  looking  all  about. 


2o6  The  Trail   of  the  Badger 

"  I  don't  know,"  I  replied.  "  Come  here  and 
put  your  ear  to  the  rock." 

Dick  instantly  joined  me,  when  we  both  very 
clearly  heard  the  voice  sa}^ : 

"  You  needn't  shout.  I  can  hear  you.  Do 
you  hear  me?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  I ;  and  repeating  my  question,  I 
asked  :   "  Who  are  you,  and  where  are  you?  " 

"  Before  1  tell  you  that,"  replied  the  voice, 
"  I  want  to  ask  you  a  question,  if  you  please. 
Are  you  Americans?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  replied.     "  Two  American  boys." 

"  Thank  you.  One  more  question,  please : 
Did  old  Galvez  send  you  up  here?" 

"  No  !  "  I  replied,  with  considerable  emphasis. 
"  We  never  saw  old  Galvez  till  yesterday." 

"  Good  !  Then  I'll  come  down  if  you'll  wait 
a  minute." 

It  was  less  than  a  minute  that  we  had  to 
wait,  when  from  behind  a  slight  bulge  in  the 
left-hand  wall,  up  near  the  head  of  the  basin, 
there  appeared  the  figure  of  a  young  fellow, 
seemingly  about  twenty  years  old,  who,  with  his 
trousers  tucked  up,  carrying  a  rifle  in  one  hand 
and  his  boots  in  the  other,  came  wading  down 
to  us. 

With  what  interest  we  watched  his  approach 


The  King   Philip  Mine  207 

will  be  imagined.  Neither  of  us  doubted  that 
it  was  the  young  fellow  whom  Galvez  had  men- 
tioned as  having  visited  Hermanos  during  his 
absence,  and  as  soon  as  he  had  come  near 
enough  for  us  to  distinguish  his  features,  I,  for 
one,  was  sure  of  it,  for,  with  his  hook  nose  and 
his  gray  eyes,  he  did  indeed  bear  a  curious  re- 
semblance to  my  partner. 

Standing  on  the  bank  at  the  edge  of  the  water, 
we  waited  for  him  to  come  near,  when,  having 
advanced  to  within  six  feet  of  us  he  stopped 
and  eyed  us  critically.  He  was  a  good-looking 
young  fellow,  not  very  big,  but  with  a  bright, 
intelligent  face  which  at  once  took  our  fanc3^ 
Apparently  his  judgment  of  our  looks  was  also 
favorable,  for,  smiling  pleasantly,  he  said  : 

"  Good-evening,  boys.    Which  of  you  is  Dick  ?  " 

*'  I  am,"  replied  the  owner  of  that  name. 

"  I  just  wanted  to  congratulate  you,  that's  all, 
on  your  escape  just  now.  It  might  have  gone 
hard  with  you  if  it  hadn't  been  for  my  good 
friend,  Sanchez." 

"  Sanchez  ?  "  I  repeated,  inquiringly.  "  Is 
that  The  Badger's  proper  name?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  stranger.  "  Pedro  Sanchez. 
The  name  of  El  Tejon  was  bestowed  upon  him 
by  old  Galvez,  and  consequently  he  objects  to 


2o8  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

it.  Your  use  of  that  name  just  now  made  him 
suspicious  that  you  might  be  emissaries  of  the 
padron,  and  it  was  that  which  caused  him  to 
jump  back  into  the  water  so  suddenly." 

"  I  see.  I'll  take  care  in  future.  Here  !  Give 
me  your  hand  " — seeing  that  he  was  about  to 
come  up  the  bank. 

"  Thank  you,"  replied  the  stranger,  reaching 
out  his  hand  to  me  and  giving  mine  a  shake 
before  he  let  go — a  greeting  he  repeated  with 
Dick.  "  I'm  very  glad  to  find  you  are  a  couple 
of  American  boys  and  not  a  pair  of  Mexican 
cut-throats,  as  we  rather  suspected  you  might  be. 
Let  us  go  up  to  your  fire  there  and  sit  down. 
The  water  will  take  another  half-hour  yet  to 
drain  off  completely." 

Accordingly,  we  walked  up  to  the  fire,  where 
the  stranger  dried  his  feet  and  pulled  on  his 
boots  again. 

"  Why  did  you  suspect  us  of  being  Mexican 
cut-throats?"  asked  Dick.  "Did  j^ou  think 
that  old  Galvez  had  sent  us  up  here  on  a  hunt 
for  you  or  for  El — for  Sanchez,  I  mean  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that  was  it.  We've  been  watching  you 
for  two  days  past.  We  saw  you  go  down  to 
Hermanos  yesterday  and  start  up  the  trail  this 
morning.     From  the  fact  of  your  having  gone 


The  King  Philip  Mine  209 

down  to  the  village,  Pedro  was  inclined  to  be- 
lieve you  were  hunting  him  or  me  ;  but,  for  my 
part,  I  rather  inferred  from  your  actions  that 
you  were  hunting  the  old  copper  mine." 

"  The  old  copper  mine  I"  we  both  cried. 

"Yes.  Did  I  make  a  mistake?  Weren't 
you?" 

"  No,  you  didn't  make  any  mistake,"  replied 
Dick.  "  What  surprised  us  was  that  you  should 
know  anything  about  it." 

The  young  fellow  laughed.  "  Do  you  sup- 
pose, then,"  said  he,  "  that  you  are  the  only 
ones  to  notice  the  pots  and  pans  down  there  at 
Hermanos?  " 

"  No,  of  course  not,"  replied  Dick.  "  The 
professor  was  right,  you  see,  Frank,"  he  con- 
tinued, turning  to  me,  "  when  he  said  that  the 
first  white  man  who  came  along  would  notice 
those  copper  utensils  and  go  hunting  for  the 
mine." 

"  Yes,"  said  I ;  and  addressing  the  stranger 
again,  I  added  :  '*  So  it  was  the  copper  mine 
you  were  seeking  after  all,  was  it?  Old 
Galvez  thought  you  came  up  here  looking  for 
Sanchez." 

Thereupon  I  related  to  him  what  the  padron 
had  said  on  the  subject,  when  the  young  fellow, 


2IO  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

smiling  rather  grimly,  remarked,  with  a  touch 
of  sarcasm  in  his  voice  : 

"  Nice  old  gentleman,  the  Seiior  Galvez.  So 
he  professed  not  to  know  my  name,  did  he  ? 
He's  a  bad  lot,  if  ever  there  was  one.  He  was 
right,  though,  in  supposing  that  I  came  up  here 
to  look  for  Pedro.  That  was  ni}^  main  object, 
though  I  intended  at  the  same  time  to  keep  an 
eye  open  for  the  old  mine." 

"And  have  you  seen  any  indication  of  it? — 
if  we  may  ask." 

**  Oh,  yes,"  he  replied,  with  unaccountable  in- 
difference. "  There  was  no  trouble  about  that, 
Pedro  discovered  it  years  ago  and  he  took  me 
straight  to  it." 

At  this  unlooked-for  blow  to  all  our  hopes 
and  plans,  Dick  and  I  gazed  at  each  other 
aghast.  At  one  stroke  apparently,  our  expedi- 
tion was  deprived  of  its  object.  We  might  just 
as  well  turn  round  and  go  home  again,  as  far  as 
the  King  Philip  mine  was  concerned.  Our 
hopes  had  been  so  high  ;  and  here  they  were  all 
toppled  over  in  an  instant.  Intense  was  our 
disappointment. 

For  half  a  minute  w^e  sat  there  speechless, 
when  our  new  acquaintance,  observing  our 
crestfallen  looks,  remarked : 


The  King   Philip   Mine  211 

"  I'm  afraid  that  is  a  good  deal  of  a  disap- 
pointment to  you,  isn't  it  ?  But,  perhaps  you 
will  be  less  disappointed  when  I  tell  you  that 
the  old  mine  is  valueless  to  me  or  you  or  any- 
body else." 

"  How's  that  ?  "  exclaimed  Dick. 

"  Why,  it's But  come  and  see  for  your- 
selves," he  cried,  springing  to  his  feet.  "  That's 
the  best  way.  You'll  understand  the  why  and 
the  wherefore  in  five  minutes." 

"  What !  Is  it  near  here,  then  ?  "  asked  my 
partner. 

"  Yes,  close  by.  Behind  the  bulge  in  the  wall 
on  the  left  here." 

"  On  that  side  !  "  cried  Dick.  ''  Not  on  the 
right,  then,  after  all  ?     Well,  that  is  a  puzzler  !  " 

"  Why  is  it  a  puzzler  ?  "  asked  the  stranger. 
"  I  don't  understand  you." 

"  Why,  if  the  mine  is  on  the  left  of  the  creek, 
what  was  that  bridge  for  up  above  here,  crossing 
over  to  the  right  f  " 

"Bridge!  What  bridge?  What  do  you 
mean  ?  " 

Upon  this  we  told  him  of  the  niches  in  the 
rock  up  above,  which  we  supposed  to  have  been 
receptacles  for  bridge-stringers. 

"  That's   queer,"    remarked    our   friend.     "  I 


2 1  2  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

had  not  heard  of  those  before.  I  wonder  if 
Pedro  knows  anything  about  it.  It  is  a  puzzler, 
as  you  say." 

"  Yes,  I  can't  make  it  out,"  continued  Dick  ; 
and  after  standing  for  a  minute  thinking,  he  re- 
peated, with  a  shake  of  his  head  :  "  No,  I  can't 
make  it  out.  I  can't  see  what  that  bridge  was 
for.  Well,  never  mind  that  for  the  present ; 
let's  go  and  see  the  old  mine." 

"Come  on,  then.  But  before  we  go,  I'll  just 
speak  to  Pedro,  or  he  may  be  going  off  and  hid- 
ing himself  somewhere  up  in  the  old  workings. 
Do  you  notice,"  he  asked,  "  how  smoothly  the 
swirl  of  the  water  has  scoured  out  a  sort  of  half- 
arch  at  the  base  of  the  canon-wall  all  the  way 
from  the  end  of  the  dam  here,  under  the  water- 
fall, round  to  the  bulge  on  the  other  side?  It 
forms  a  perfect  '  whispering  gallery.'  Hallo, 
Pedro  !  "  he  called  out,  putting  his  face  close  to  the 
rock.     "  It  is  all  right.     We  are  coming  up  now." 

Descending  to  the  bed  of  the  pool,  whence 
all  the  water  except  three  or  four  permanent 
puddles  had  now  drained  away,  we  first  searched 
for  our  rifles,  and  having  recovered  them, 
followed  our  guide  around  the  bulge  in  the 
wall,  and  there  found  ourselves  confronting  the 
old  mine-entrance. 


BEHIND  HIM,  STOOD  THE  SQUAT  FIGURE  OF  PEDRO  SANCHEZ.' 


The   King   Philip  Mine  213 

About  ten  feet  above  the  floor  of  the  pool  was 
a  big  hole  in  the  rock,  evidently  made  by  hand 
— for  it  was  square — leading  up  to  wdiich  were 
several  roughly-hewn  steps,  more  or  less  rounded 
off  and  worn  away  by  the  water.  On  top  of  the 
steps,  framed  in  the  blackness  of  the  opening 
behind  him,  stood  the  squat  figure  of  Pedro 
Sanchez — in  his  rough  shirt  of  deer-skin  repre- 
senting very  well,  I  thought,  the  badger  in  the 
mouth  of  his  hole. 

"  Pedro,"  said  our  new  friend,  "  these  gentle- 
men were  seeking  the  old  mine,  as  I  thought. 
You  have  nothing  to  fear  from  them." 

"  On  the  contrary,"  cried  Dick,  bounding  up 
the  steps  and  holding  out  his  hand,  "  we  have 
to  thank  you  for  your  good  service  just  now  !  " 

Stretching  out  his  long  arm,  the  little  giant 
smiled  genially,  showing  a  row  of  big  white 
teeth. 

"  It  is  nothing,"  said  he ;  adding,  with  a 
twinkle  in  his  eye  :  "  The  senores  will  remem- 
ber that  I  owed  to  them  some  return  for  their 
assistance  against  the  wolves." 

"  That's  a  fact !  "  cried  Dick.  "  I'd  forgotten 
that.  So  you  remember  us,  do  you  ?  I 
wonder  at  that — you  didn't  stay  long  to  look 
at  us." 


214  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

"  No,  seiior,"  replied  Pedro,  laughing.  "  I 
was  out  of  my  own  country  and  was  distrustful 
of  strangers." 

Turning  to  our  new  friend,  who  was  wonder- 
ing what  all  this  was  about,  Dick  explained  the 
circumstances  of  our  former  meeting  with  Pedro, 
adding : 

"  So,  you  see,  we  are  old  acquaintances  after 
all.  In  fact,  if  we  had  not  met  Pedro  before  we 
should  not  be  here  now,  for  it  was  his  copper- 
headed  arrow  which  brought  us  down,  oddly 
enough." 

"  That  was  odd,  certainly.  Well,  Pedro,  get 
the  torch  and  show  your  old  friends  over  the 
mine.  We  must  be  quick,  or  it  will  be  getting 
dark  before  we  can  get  back  to  our  camp." 

Pedro  disappeared  into  the  darkness  some- 
where, while  we  ourselves  climbed  up  into  the 
mouth  of  the  tunnel.  It  was  very  wet  in  there  : 
we  could  hear  the  drip,  drip  of  water  in  all 
directions. 

"  Were  you  in  here  when  the  flood  came 
down  ?  "  asked  Dick.  "  How  is  it  you  weren't 
drowned — for  I  see  the  water  stood  five  feet  deep 
in  the  tunnel?  " 

"  Oh,"  replied  the  other,  "  there  was  no  fear 
of  drowning.     There  are  plenty  of  places  in  here 


The  King   Philip  Mine  215 

out  of  reach  of  the  water.     Wait  a  moment  and 
you'll  see." 

True  enough,  we  soon  heard  the  striking  of  a 
match,  and  next  we  saw  the  Mexican  standing 
with  a  torch  in  his  hand  in  a  recess  about  ten 
feet  above  us. 

"  That  is  where  we  took  refuge,"  said  our 
friend.  "  Far  out  of  reach  of  the  water,  you  see. 
Come  on,  now,  and  I'll  show  you  how  this  old 
mine  was  worked,  and  why  it  was  abandoned." 

Leading  the  way,  torch  in  hand,  he  presently 
stopped,  and  said  : 

"  The  place  where  we  came  in  was  the  mouth 
of  the  main  working-tunnel.  It  follows  the 
vein  into  the  rock  for  about  a  thousand  feet, 
which  would  bring  it,  as  I  calculate,  pretty 
near  to  the  other  caiion — for  the  rock  between 
the  two  canons  is  nothing  more  than  a  spit,  as 
you  will  remember.  Above  the  tunnel  they 
have  followed  the  vein  upward,  gouging  out  all 
the  native  copper  and  wastefully  throwing  away 
all  the  less  valuable  ore,  until  there  was  none 
left.  If  you  look,  you  can  see  the  empty  crevice 
extending  upward  out  of  sight." 

"  I  see,"  said  Dick,  shading  his  eyes  from  the 
glare  of  the  torch.  "  It  seems  to  have  been 
pretty  primitive  mining." 


2i6  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

"  It  was — that  part  of  it,  at  least.  But  hav- 
ing exhausted  all  the  copper  above,  they  next 
began  the  more  difficult  process  of  mining 
downward.  Come  along  this  way  and  I'll  show 
you." 

Walking  along  the  tunnel  some  distance,  our 
guide  pointed  out  to  us  a  square  pool  in  the 
floor,  measuring  about  eight  feet  each  way. 

"  This,"  said  he,  "  was  a  shaft.  There  is 
another  further  along.  How  deep  they  are,  I 
don't  know." 

"  But,  look  here  !  "  cried  Dick.  "  How  could 
they  venture  to  sink  shafts,  when  at  any  mo- 
ment a  flood  might  rush  in  and  drown  them 
all  ?  " 

"  Ah  !  That's  just  the  point,"  said  our  friend. 
"  Come  outside  again  and  you'll  understand." 

Returning  once  more  to  the  bed  of  the  pool, 
we  faced  the  hole  in  the  wall,  when  our  guide 
continued  : 

"  Now,  you  see,  the  floor  of  the  tunnel  is 
about  ten  feet  above  the  creek-bed,  and  before 
the  clifl*  fell  down,  forming  the  dam,  the  water 
ran  freely  past  its  mouth.  But  some  time  after 
the  miners  had  got  out  all  the  copper  overhead 
and  had  begun  sinking  shafts,  this  cliflP  came 
down,  blocked  the  channel,  and  caused  the  water 


The  King  Philip   Mine  217 

to  back  up  into  the  workings.  As  you  remarked 
just  now,  it  filled  the  tunnel  five  feet  deep,  and, 
as  a  matter  of  course,  filled  the  shafts  up  to  the 
top." 

"  I  see,"  said  Dick.  "  You  think,  then,  that 
the  cliff  fell  in  comparatively  recent  times.  I 
believe  you  are  right,  too.  That  would  account 
for  there  being  no  trees  of  any  great  size  upon 
the  dam." 

"  Yes.  And  as  a  consequence  the  mine  was 
abandoned  ;  for  it  would  have  taken  years  to 
dig  away  this  dam,  and  as  long  as  it  existed  it 
would  be  impossible  to  go  on  with  the  work 
with  the  water  coming  down  and  filling  up  the 
tunnel  once  every  three  days,  or  thereabouts." 

"  Every  three  days ! "  we  both  exclaimed. 
"  Is  this  a  regular  thing,  then,  this  flood  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes.  I'd  forgotten  you  didn't  know 
that.  Yes,  it's  a  pretty  regular  thing,  and  a 
very  curious  one,  too.  Pedro  says  that  up  in 
that  old  crater  near  the  top  of  the  mountain 
there  is  a  great  intermittent  spring  which  every 
now  and  then  rises  up  and  spills  out  a  great 
mass  of  water.  The  water  comes  racing  down 
this  gorge,  and  half  an  hour  later  leaps  over  the 
fall  here,  fills  up  the  pool  and  the  mine,  and 
gradually  drains  ofi"  again  under  the  dam." 


21 8  The  Trail   of  the   Badger 

"  That  certainly  is  a  curious  thing,"  Dick 
responded.  *'  And  it  also  furnishes  a  reason 
good  enough  to  satisfy  anybody  for  abandoning 
the  mine.  Well,  Frank,"  he  went  on,  "  this 
looks  like  the  end  of  our  expedition.  We've 
done  what  we  set  out  to  do  : — found  the  King 
Philip  mine ;  and  now,  I  suppose,  there's 
nothing  left  but  to  turn  round  and  go  home 
again." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  I  assented,  regretfully.  "  I 
hate  to  go  back  ;  but  I'm  afraid  we  have  no  ex- 
cuse for  remaining." 

"  You  think  you  must  go  back,  do  you  ?  " 
asked  our  friend.  "  I'm  sorry  you  should  have 
to  do  so,  but  if  you  must,  why  shouldn't  we 
travel  the  first  stage  together  ?  I  start  back  to 
Santa  Fe  to-morrow,  and  from  there  home  to 
Washington." 

"  You  live  in  Washington,  do  you  ?  "  said 
Dick.  "  Then,  why  do  you  go  round  by  way  of 
Santa  Fe  ?  It  would  be  much  shorter  to  go  to 
Mosby — and  then  we  could  ride  all  the  way  to- 
gether." 

"  I  wish  I  could,  but  I  have  to  go  the  other 
way.  I  left  my  baggage  there,  for  one  thing  ; 
and  besides  that  I  have  some  inquiries  to  make 
there  which  my  mother  asked  me  to  undertake." 


The  King   Philip   Mine  219 

Dick  nodded,  "  And  then  you  go  straight 
back  to  Washington  ?  "  he  asked. 

*'  Yes.  Then  I  must  get  straight  back  home 
as  fast  as  I  can  and  report  to  my  father.  I  had 
two  commissions  to  perform  for  him  : — one  was 
to  look  into  the  matter  of  this  old  mine  ;  the 
other  concerned  the  present  condition  of  the 
Hermanos  Grant.  The  first  one  I  consider  set- 
tled, but  the  other,  I  find,  is  a  matter  for  the 
lawyers  :  it  is  too  complicated  a  subject  for  me, 
a  stranger  in  the  land  and  a  foreigner." 

"  A  foreigner  !  "  I  cried.  ''  Why,  we  supposed 
you  were  an  American." 

"  No,"  said  he.     "  I  am  a  Spaniard." 

"  A  Spaniard  !  "  we  both  exclaimed  this  time. 

"  Yes,"  laughing  at  our  astonishment.  "  A 
Scotch-Irish-Spaniard — which  seems  a  queer 
mixture,  doesn't  it?  Though  I  was  born  in 
Spain,  my  forefathers  were  Irish,  my  mother  is 
Scotch,  and  I  have  lived  for  several  years  first 
in  Edinburgh  and  then  in  London  ;  and  now 
my  father,  who  is  in  the  Spanish  diplomatic 
service,  is  stationed  in  Washington." 

"  And  what ?  "  I  began,  and  then  stopped, 

with  some  embarrassment,  as  it  occurred  to  me 
that  it  was  not  exactly  my  business. 

"And  what  am  I  doing  out  here?  you  were 


2  20  The  Trail   of  the  Badger 

going  to  say.  I'll  tell  you.  My  father  was  out 
in  this  part  of  the  world  a  good  many  years  ago, 
having  business  in  Santa  Fe,  where  he  got  track 
of  this  old  copper  mine ;  but  his  idea  of  its 
whereabouts  was  very  vague  until,  about  a  year 
ago,  a  gentleman  whom  he  had  met  when  he 
was  out  here  wrote  him  a  letter  telling  him  of 
the  number  of  copper  utensils  to  be  found  down 
there  at  Hermanos What's  the  matter  ?  " 

That  he  should  thus  exclaim  was  not  to  be 
wondered  at  if  the  look  of  surprise  on  my  face 
was  anything  like  the  look  on  Dick's. 

"  Well,  of  all  the  queer  things !  "  exclaimed 
the  latter;  and  then,  advancing  a  step  and  ad- 
dressing our  friend,  he  said,  smiling  :  "  I  think 
we  can  guess  your  name." 

"  You  do  !  "  cried  the  young  fellow.  "  That 
seems  hardly  likely.     What  is  it?  " 

''  Blake  !  "  replied  Dick. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

A  Change  of  Plan 

IF  the  young  Spaniard  had  provided  us  with 
two  or  three  surprises  during  the  day,  I  think 
we  got  even  with  him  in  that  line  when  Dick 
thus  disclosed  to  him  the  fact  that  we  knew  his 
name.  For  a  moment  he  stood  gazing  blankly 
at  us,  and  then  exclaimed  : 

"  How  in  the  world  did  you  guess  that?  " 

"  I  don't  wonder  you  are  puzzled,"  replied 
Dick,  "  but  the  explanation  is  very  simple. 
The  Professor  Bergen  who  wrote  to  your  father 
— that's  the  right  name,  isn't  it?  " 

Young  Blake  nodded.  "  That  was  the  name 
signed  to  the  letter,"  said  he.     '' '  Otto  Bergen.'  " 

"  Well,  this  Professor  Bergen  is  my  best  and 
oldest  friend  ;  I  have  lived  with  him  for  thirteen 
or  fourteen  years.  We  left  his  house  to  come 
down  here  less  than  a  week  ago.  It  was  he  who 
told  us  of  his  meeting  with  a  Spaniard  of  the 
remarkable  name  of  Blake,  who,  while  hunting 
through   the   records   in    Santa   Fe,  had   come 


22  2  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

across  mention  of  this  old  mine.  And  when  he 
and  I  passed  through  Hermanos  last  year  and 
saw  all  those  old  copper  vessels  there,  the  pro- 
fessor wrote  at  once  to  your  father  to  tell  him 
about  them.     I  mailed  the  letter  myself." 

"  Well,  this  is  certainly  a  most  remarkable 
meeting  !  "  cried  our  new  acquaintance.  "  Why, 
I  feel  as  if  I  had  fallen  in  with  two  old  friends  !  " 

"  Well,  you  have,  if  you  like  !  "  cried  Dick, 
laughing  ;  whereupon  we  shook  hands  all  over 
again  with  the  greatest  heartiness. 

"  My  first  name,"  said  j^oung  Blake,  "  is 
Arturo — Arthur  in  this  country — the  name  of 
the  original  Irish  ancestor  who  fled  to  Spain  in 
the  year  1691,  and  after  whom  each  of  the  eldest 
sons  of  our  family  has  been  named  ever  since.. 
But  not  being  gifted  with  your  genius  for  guess- 
ing names,"  he  continued,  with  a  smile,  "  I 
haven't  yet  found  out  what  yours  are." 

"  That's  a  fact ! "  cried  Dick.  "  What  thought- 
less chaps  we  are  !  My  friend  here,  is  Frank 
Preston  of  St.  Louis  ;  my  own  name  is " 

"  Senores,"  said  Pedro,  cutting  in  at  this  mo- 
ment, "  with  your  pardon,  we  must  be  getting 
out  of  this  canon  :  it  will  be  black  night  down 
here  in  another  ten  minutes." 

"  That's   true  !  "    our   friend   assented.      "  So 


A  Change  of  Plan  223 

come  along.  We  camp  together,  of  course. 
How  are  you  off  for  provisions?  We  have  the 
hind-quarter  of  a  deer  which  Pedro  shot  three 
days  ago  ;  pretty  lean  and  stringy,  but  if  you  are 
as  hungry  as  I  am  we  can  make  it  do." 

"  Hungry  !  "  cried  Dick.  "  I'm  ravenous. 
We've  had  nothing  to  eat  since  six  o'clock  this 
morning.     How  is  it  with  you,  Frank  ?  " 

''  I'll  show  you,"  I  replied,  snapping  my  teeth 
together,  "  as  soon  as  I  get  the  chance." 

With  a  laugh,  we  set  off  over  the  dam,  and 
half  an  hour  later  were  all  busy  round  the  fire 
toasting  strips  of  deer-meat  on  sticks  and  eating 
them  as  fast  as  they  were  cooked,  with  an  ap- 
petite which  illustrated — if  it  needed  illustra- 
tion— the  truth  of  the  old  saying,  that  the  best 
of  all  sauces  is  hunger. 

Our  supper  finished,  we  made  ourselves  com- 
fortable round  the  fire,  and  far  into  the  night — 
long  after  Pedro  had  rolled  himself  in  his 
blanket  and  had  gone  to  sleep — we  sat  there 
talking. 

The  reasons  for  our  own  presence  in  these 
parts  were  briefly  and  easily  explained,  when 
our  new  friend,  Arthur — with  whom,  by  the 
way,  we  very  soon  felt  ourselves  sufficiently 
familiar  to  address  by  his  first  name — Arthur 


2  24  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

related  to  us  the  motives  which  had  brought 
him  so  far  from  home. 

"  It  was  not  only  to  hunt  up  this  old  mine," 
said  he ;  "  in  fact,  that  was  quite  a  secondary 
object.  My  chief  reason  for  coming  out  was  to 
look  into  the  condition  of  the  Hermanos  Grant, 
and  to  find  out  why  it  was  we  had  been  unable 
for  the  past  twelve  years  to  get  any  reports  from 
there." 

"  Wh}^  you  hadn't  been  able  to  get  reports  !  " 
exclaimed  Dick.  "  What  have  you  got  to  do 
with  the  Hermanos  Grant,  then?" 

*'  It  belongs  to  my  father,"  replied  Arthur, 
smiling. 

We  stared  at  him  with  raised  eyebrows. 

"  But  what  about  old  Galvez,  then  ?  "  asked 
my  partner.  "  We  supposed  it  belonged  to  him. 
In  fact,  his  nephew  told  us  as  much,  and  he 
evidently  spoke  in  good  faith,  too." 

"I  dare  say  he  did,"  replied  Arthur.  "All 
the  same,  the  grant  belongs,  and  for  about  a 
century  and  a  half  has  belonged,  to  our  family. 
It  was  my  ancestor,  Arthur  the  First,  who 
'bossed'  the  King  Philip  mine  and  who  built 
the  Cam  del  Rey.  Old  Galvez  is  just  a  usurper. 
I  did  not  even  know  of  his  existence  till  I 
reached  the  village  three  days  ago.     It  is  a  long 


A  Change  of  Plan  225 

and  rather  complicated  story,  but  if  you  are  not 
too  sleepy  I'll  try  to  explain  it  before  we  go  to 
bed." 

It  was  a  long  story ;  and  as  our  frequent 
questions  and  interruptions  made  it  a  good  deal 
longer,  I  think  it  will  be  wise  to  relate  it,  or 
some  of  it,  at  least,  in  my  own  words,  to  save 
time. 

The  original  Arthur  Blake  having  rendered 
notable  service  in  the  great  battle  of  Almanza, 
the  king  of  Spain  rewarded  the  gallant  Irish- 
man by  making  him  "  Governor  "  of  the  King 
Philip  mine,  at  the  same  time,  in  true  kingly 
fashion,  bestowing  upon  him  a  large  tract  of 
land,  comprising  the  village  of  Hermanos  with 
the  inhabitants  thereof,  as  well  as  the  desert 
surrounding  it  for  five  miles  each  way. 

The  mine  having  ceased  to  be  workable,  for 
the  reason  we  had  seen,  Arthur  the  First  was 
preparing  to  return  to  his  adopted  countr}^,  when 
he  died  out  there,  alone,  in  that  far-off  land  of 
exile.  In  course  of  time  the  existence  of  the 
King  Philip  mine  passed  entirely  out  of  ever}'- 
body's  recollection,  as  would  probably  have  been 
the  case  with  the  Hermanos  Grant  itself,  had 
not  the  agent  or  factor,  or,  as  he  was  locally 
called,  the  mayordomo,  placed  in  charge  by  the 


2  26  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

old  Irishman,  continued  from  year  to  year  to 
send  over  to  the  representative  of  the  family  in 
Spain  certain  small  sums  of  money  collected  in 
the  way  of  rents. 

They  were  an  honest  family,  these  factors,  the 
son  succeeding  the  father  from  generation  to 
generation,  and  faithfully  they  continued  to 
send  over  the  trifling  annual  remittances,  until 
the  year  1865,  when  the  payments  suddenly  and 
unaccountably  ceased. 

It  was  two  or  three  years  before  this  that 
Senor  Blake,  having  the  opportunity  to  do  so, 
had  come  out  to  Southern  Colorado  to  take  a 
look  at  the  old  grant,  which,  since  the  dis- 
covery of  gold  in  the  territory,  might  have 
some  value  after  all. 

As  a  part  of  this  trip  he  visited  Santa  Fe, 
with  the  object  of  searching  through  the  records 
for  some  copy  of  the  original  royal  patent ;  for 
what  had  become  of  that  document  nobody 
knew.  It  was  possible  that  it  had  been  des- 
troyed when  the  French  burnt  the  family  man- 
sion during  the  Peninsular  war  ;  again  it  was 
possible  that  old  Arthur  the  First  had  brought 
it  with  him  to  America  for  the  purpose  of  sub- 
mitting it  to  the  inspection  of  the  Mexican 
authorities — for  that   part  of  Colorado  was  in 


A   Change  of  Plan  227 

those  days  under  the  rule  of  the  viceroy  of 
Mexico. 

In  the  limited  time  at  his  disposal,  however, 
Seiior  Blake  had  found  no  trace  of  it ;  a  circum- 
stance he  much  regretted,  for  though  hitherto 
there  had  never  been  any  question  as  to  the 
title,  should  the  tract  some  day  prove  of  value, 
such  question  might  very  well  arise,  when  the 
Blake  family  might  have  difficulty  in  proving 
ownership. 

For  about  three  years  after  his  visit  things 
continued  to  jog  along  in  the  old  way,  until,  as 
I  said,  in  the  year  1865  the  annual  remittances 
suddenly  ceased  and  all  communication  with 
Hermanos  appeared  to  be  cut  off — for  reasons 
unknown  and  undiscoverable. 

Such  was  the  state  of  affairs  when  the  elder 
Blake  took  up  his  residence  in  Washington, 
when  Arthur,  having  solicited  permission  from 
his  father,  came  west  to  find  out  if  possible  what 
was  the  matter. 

"  When  I  got  to  Hermanos,"  said  Arthur, 
continuing  his  story,  "  I  found  the  people  in 
such  a  down-trodden,  spiritless  condition  that  I 
had  great  difficulty  in  getting  any  information 
out  of  them — they  Avere  afraid  to  say  anything 
lest  evil  should  befall.     By  degrees,  however,  I 


228  The  Trail  of  the   Badger 

gained  their  confidence,  when  I  found  that  the 
Sanchez  family,  by  whom,  for  generations  past, 
the  office  of  mayordomo  had  been  held,  was 
extinct,  except  for  a  certain  Pedro,  a  member  of 
a  distant  branch,  and  that  the  present  owner 
of  the  grant  was  one,  Galvez,  who,  seemingly, 
had  come  into  possession  about  twelve  years  ago. 

"  As  I  could  not  understand  how  this  could 
be,  and  as  nobody  seemed  able  to  enlighten  me, 
I  decided,  of  course,  to  wait  till  Galvez  came 
home  in  order  to  question  him. 

"  Meanwhile,  I  inquired  about  this  man, 
Pedro  Sanchez,  who,  I  was  told,  was  the  only 
one  likely  to  be  able  to  explain,  meeting  with 
no  difficulty  in  ascertaining  where  he  was  to  be 
found ;  for,  though  Galvez  himself  did  not 
know  whether  Pedro  was  alive  or  dead,  every 
other  inhabitant  of  the  village  knew  perfectly 
well,  and  always  had  known,  not  only  that  he 
was  alive  but  where  to  find  him. 

"  Presently,  about  dusk,  Galvez  came  riding 
in,  when  I  at  once  made  myself  known  to  him. 
At  the  mention  of  my  name  he  appeared  for  a 
moment  to  be  rendered  speechless,  either  with 
fear  or  surprise,  and  then,  to  my  great  astonish- 
ment, with  a  burst  of  execration,  he  snatched  a 
revolver  out  of  its  holster.     Luckily  for  me,  he 


A   Change  of  Plan  229 

did  it  in  such  haste  that  the  weapon,  striking 
the  pommel  of  the  saddle,  flew  out  of  his  hand 
and  fell  upon  the  ground  ;  whereupon  I  ran  for 
it,  jumped  upon  my  horse  and  rode  away. 

"  After  riding  a  short  distance,  I  bethought 
me  of  Pedro,  so,  circling  round  the  village,  I 
came  up  here,  and  following  the  directions  of 
the  peons,  I  easily  found  him  next  morning. 
Through  Pedro,  as  soon  as  I  had  succeeded  in 
convincing  him  of  my  identity,  I  quickly  got  at 
the  rights  of  the  case." 

**  Wait  a  minute,"  said  Dick,  who,  together 
with  myself,  had  been  an  attentive  listener. 
"  Let  me  put  some  more  logs  on  the  fire. 
There!"  as  he  seated  himself  once  more. 
"  That  will  last  for  some  time.  Now,  go 
ahead." 

Leaning  back  against  a  tree-trunk  and 
stretching  out  his  feet  to  the  fire,  Arthur 
began    again  : 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  of  the  Espinosas  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  No ! "  I  exclaimed,  surprised  by  the  ap- 
parently unconnected  question  ;  but  Dick  re- 
plied, "  Yes,  I  have.  Mexican  bandits,  or  some- 
thing of  the  sort,  weren't  they  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  our  friend.     "  They  were  a  pair 


230  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

of  Mexicans  who,  in  the  year  '65,  terrorized  cer- 
tain parts  of  Colorado  by  committing  many 
murders  of  white  people.  This  man,  Galvez, 
who  then  lived  in  Taos,  hated  the  Americans 
with  a  very  thorough  and  absorbing  hatred, 
and  the  exploits  of  the  Espinosas  being  just 
suited  to  his  taste,  he  decided  to  join  them. 
But  he  was  a  little  too  late ;  the  two  brigands 
were  killed,  and  he  himself,  with  a  bullet 
through  his  shoulder,  would  assuredly  have 
been  captured  had  he  not  had  the  good  fortune 
to  fall  in  with  Pedro  Sanchez. 

'•  Pedro  had  been  a  soldier,  too,  and  coming 
thus  upon  a  comrade  in  distress  he  packed  him 
on  his  burro,  and  by  trails  known  only  to  him- 
self brought  him  down  to  Hermanos,  entering, 
the  village  secretly  by  night. 

"  The  occupant  of  the  Casa  at  that  time  was 
another  Pedro  Sanchez,  a  forty-second  cousin  or 
thereabouts  of  our  Pedro.  He  was  a  very  old 
man,  the  last  of  his  immediate  family,  a  good, 
honest,  simple-minded  old  fellow,  who  for  thirty 
years  or  more  had  been  factor  for  us.  With 
him  Pedro  sought  asylum  for  his  comrade — a 
favor  the  old  man  readily  granted  to  his  name- 
sake and  relative. 

**  It  was  pretty  sure  that  there  would  be  a 


A   Change  of  Plan  231 

hue  and  cry  after  Galvez,  so,  to  avoid  suspicion 
as  much  as  possible,  they  arranged  to  give  out 
that  it  was  Pedro  who  lay  sick  at  the  Casa, 
while  Pedro  himself  went  off  again  that  same 
night  up  into  the  mountain  to  hide  till  Galvez 
thought  it  safe  to  move.  He  had  done  every- 
thing he  could  think  of  for  his  friend,  and  how 
do  you  suppose  his  friend  requited  him  ?  It 
will  show  you  the  sort  of  man  this  Galvez  is. 

"  For  six  weeks  the  latter  lay  hidden,  when 
in  some  roundabout  way  he  got  word  that  his 
description  was  placarded  on  the  walls  of  Taos 
and  a  reward  offered  for  his  capture.  This  cut 
him  off*  from  returning  home  and  he  was  in  a 
quandary  what  to  do,  when  one  day  his  host, 
who,  as  I  said,  was  a  very  old  man,  had  a  fall 
from  his  horse  and  two  days  later  died. 

"  Then  did  Galvez  resolve  upon  a  bold  stroke. 
He  came  out  of  his  hiding-place,  and  without 
offering  reasons  or  explanations  calmly  an- 
nounced that  he  had  become  proprietor  of  the 
Hermanos  Grant,  and  that  in  future  the  vil- 
lagers were  to  look  to  him  for  orders  !  The 
very  impudence  of  the  move  carried  the  day. 
The  ignorant  peons,  accustomed  for  generations 
to  obey,  accepted  the  situation  without  question ; 
and  thus  did  Galvez  install  himself  as  padron 


232  The  Trail   of  the   Badger 

of  Hennanos,  and  padron  he  has  remained  for 
twelve  years,  there  being  nobody  within  five 
thousand  miles  to  enter  protest  or  dispute  his 
title." 

''  Well !  "  exclaimed  Dick.  "  That  was  about 
the  most  bare-faced  piece  of  rascality  I  ever  did 
hear  of  And  your  father,  of  course,  over  there 
in  Cadiz  or  London  or  wherever  you  were  then, 
was  helpless  to  find  out  what  was  going  on  in 
this  remote  corner." 

"  That's  it  exactly  ;  and  at  that  time,  too,  this 
corner  was  far  more  remote  even  than  it  is  now 
— there  were  no  railroads  anywhere  near  then, 
you  see." 

''  That's  true.  Well,  go  on.  What  about  his 
treatment  of  Pedro  ?  " 

"Why,  Galvez,  as  padron  of  Hermanos — a 
place  almost  completely  cut  off"  from  the  rest  of 
the  world — felt  pretty  sure  that  he  would  never 
be  identified  as  Galvez  of  Taos,  the  man  wanted 
for  brigandage ;  for  the  villagers  had  no  sus- 
picion of  the  fact.  The  only  danger  lay  in 
Pedro." 

"  I  see.  Pedro  being  the  one  person  who  did 
know  the  facts." 

"  Exactly.  Well,  Galvez  was  not  one  to  stick 
at  trifles,  and  understanding  that  the  simplest 


A   Change  of  Plan  233 

way  to  secure  his  own  safety  would  be  to  get  rid 
of  this  witness,  he  came  riding  up  into  the 
mountain  one  day,  found  Pedro,  and  while 
talking  with  him  in  friendly  fashion,  pulled 
out  a  big  flint-lock  horse-pistol,  jammed  it 
against  his  benefactor's  chest  and  pulled  the 
trigger.  Luckily  the  weapon  missed  fire  ;  Pedro 
jumped  away,  picked  up  a  big  stone  and  hurled 
it  at  his  faithless  friend,  taking  him  in  the 
mouth  and  knocking  out  all  his  front  teeth. 
Then  he,  himself,  fled  up  into  his  mountain  ; 
and  that  was  their  last  meeting,  except  on  the 
occasion  when  Galvez  came  up  to  hunt  for  him 
and  Pedro  shot  his  horse  with  the  copper-headed 
arrow. 

"  There  !  "  Arthur  concluded.  "  Now  you 
have  it  all.     That's  the  whole  story  ! " 

"  And  a  mighty  curious  and  interesting  story 
it  is,  too  !  "  exclaimed  Dick  ;  adding,  after  a 
thoughtful  pause  :  "  That  man,  Galvez,  is  cer- 
tainly a  remarkable  specimen  ;  and  a  dangerous 
one.  He  is  not  an  ordinary,  every-day,  prim- 
itive ruffian.  That  move  of  his  in  declaring 
himself  padron  of  Hermanos  was  a  stroke  of 
genius  in  its  way.  It  won't  be  a  simple  matter 
to  get  him  out  of  there,  if  that  is  what  you  are 
after." 


234  The  Trail   of  the   Badger 

"  That  is  what  I  am  after,"  replied  Arthur. 
"  But,  as  I  said,  the  question  of  how  to  do  it  is 
too  complicated  for  me.  I  know  nothing  of 
American  law,  but  it  strikes  me  that,  in  spite 
of  the  fact  that  he  plainly  has  no  right  there, 
we  may  have  considerable  difficulty  in  getting 
him  out,  for,  as  we  can  show  neither  the  original 
patent  nor  a  copy  of  it,  we  have  only  our  word 
for  it  that  such  a  thing  ever  existed." 

"  That's  true,"  said  I.  "  And  Galvez  being 
in  possession,  it  may  be  that  he  would  not  have 
to  prove  his  rights  :  it  would  rest  with  you  to 
prove  yours.'' 

"  I  should  think  that  was  very  likely,"  re- 
marked Dick.     "  It  is  a  complicated  matter,  as 
you   sa}'.     What   do   you  suppose  your  father, 
will  do  ?     Have  you  any  idea  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have,"  replied  Arthur,  ver}'  emphatic- 
ally. "  I  know  exactly  what  he  will  do. 
When  I  tell  him  how  the  grant  has  been  *  an- 
nexed '  by  this  man — and  such  a  man,  too — he 
will  never  rest  until  he  has  got  him  out.  It 
may  be  that  the  old  brigandage  business  may 
serve  as  a  lever — that,  I  don't  know — but  what- 
ever is  necessary  to  be  done  he  will  do,  however 
long  it  may  take  and  however  much  it  may 
cost." 


A  Change  of  Plan  235 

"  As  to  the  cost,"  said  I,  "  that  is  likely,  I 
should  think,  to  be  pretty  big.  Is  the  grant 
worth  it?  Suppose,  on  investigation,  your 
father  should  find  that  the  expense  of  getting 
Galvez  out  would  be  greater  than  the  value  of 
the  property — what  then  ?  " 

Arthur  laughed.  *'You  don't  know  my 
father,"  said  he.  "  The  value  of  the  grant — 
which,  in  truth,  is  nothing,  or  nearly  nothing 
— makes  no  difference  whatever.  It's  the  prin- 
ciple of  the  thing.  To  permit  a  robber  like 
Galvez  to  remain  quietly  in  possession  would  be 
impossible  to  my  father.  He  will  regard  it  as 
his  duty  to  society  to  right  the  wrong,  and  he 
will  do  it,  if  it  takes  ten  years,  without  consider- 
ing for  a  moment  whether  the  grant  is  worth  it 
or  not." 

"Good  for  him!  "cried  Dick,  thumping  his 
knee  with  his  fist.  "  The  law  in  this  new  West 
is  weak — naturally — and  here  in  this  out-of-the- 
way  corner  there  is  none  at  all,  but  a  few  such 
men  as  your  father  would  soon  stiffen  its  back- 
bone. I  hope  he'll  succeed  ;  the  only  thing  I'm 
sorry  for  is  that  the  grant  has  so  little  value." 

"  That  is  unfortunate,"  replied  Arthur ; 
"  though,  as  it  happens,  that  particular  concerns 
my  father  less  than  it  does  me." 


236  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

"Is  that  so?     How  is  that?" 

"  It  is  an  old  custom  in  the  family  to  bestow 
the  Hermanos  Grant  on  the  eldest  son  on  his 
coming  of  age.  I  am  the  eldest  son,  and  I  come 
of  age  next  August,  when,  according  to  the 
custom,  I  shall  become  the  owner  of  this  value- 
less patch  of  desert — if  Galvez  will  be  graciously 
pleased  to  allow  me." 

*'  What  are  the  limits  of  the  grant?"  asked 
Dick. 

"  North,  south  and  east,"  replied  Arthur,  "  it 
extends  five  miles  from  Hermanos,  but  on  the 
west  it  stops  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains." 

"  So  the  onl}^  part  of  it  which  produces  any- 
thing is  that  little  patch  of  cultivated  ground 
surrounding  the  village." 

"  Yes  ;  and  as  the  water-supply  is  very  limited 
the  place  can  never  grow  any  larger.  In  fact, 
it  produces  little  more  than  enough  to  feed  the 
villagers  ;  and  even  as  it  is,  the  boys  as  they 
grow  up  have  to  go  off  and  get  work  elsewhere 
as  sheep-herders  and  cowmen,  there  being  no 
room  for  them  at  home.  It  is  the  padron's 
custom,  I  was  told,  to  hire  them  out,  their  wages 
being  paid  to  him,  in  which  case  you  may  be 
sure  it  is  precious  little  of  their  earnings  they 
ever  get  themselves." 


A   Change  of  Plan  237 

"  He's  a  bud  one,  sure  enough,"  remarked 
Dick.  "  But  to  go  back  to  that  water-supply. 
Isn't  there  any  way  of  increasing  it?" 

"  I'm  afraid  not,"  replied  Arthur.  "  I  wish 
there  were  :  a  plentiful  supply  of  water  would 
make  the  place  really  valuable.  There  is  land 
enough,  and  excellent  land,  too ;  all  that  is 
needed  is  water.  But  that,  I'm  afraid,  is  not  to 
be  had.  I've  talked  to  Pedro  about  it ;  he 
knows  every  stream  on  these  two  mountains, 
but  he  says  that  they  all  run  in  canons  from 
five  hundred  to  two  thousand  feet  deep,  and 
there  is  no  possible  way  of  getting  any  of  them 
out  upon  the  surface  of  the  valley.  What  are 
you  thinking  about,  Dick?  " 

My  partner,  who  had  been  sitting  with  his 
elbows  on  his  knees  and  his  chin  in  his  hands, 
frowning  severely  at  the  fire,  started  from  his 
revery,  and  turning  toward  his  questioner,  he 
replied,  speaking  slowly  and  thoughtfully  : 

"  If  any  one  ought  to  know,  it's  Pedro ;  but, 
all  the  same,  I  believe  Pedro  is  wrong.  I  be- 
lieve there  is  a  way  of  turning  one  of  these 
streams  somewhere  and  bringing  it  down  to 
Hermanos — if  only  one  could  find  the  right 
stream." 

"  Why  do  you  think  so  ?  "  asked  Arthur. 


238  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

"  I  know  it  looks  ridiculous  for  nie  to  be 
setting  up  my  opinion  against  Pedro's,"  replied 
my  partner,  "but  I  can't  help  thinking  that 
there  is  such  a  stream.  Look  here  1  "  he  cried, 
jumping  up,  walking  to  and  fro  between  us  and 
the  fire  once  or  twice,  and  then  stopping  and 
shaking  his  finger  at  us  as  though  he  were  de- 
livering a  lecture  to  two  inattentive  pupils. 
"  Where  did  those  old  Pueblos  get  their  water 
from,  I  should  like  to  know  ?  Up  in  these 
mountains  somewhere,  didn't  they  ?  Of  course 
they  did  :  there's  no  other  place.  There  was  a 
big  irrigation  system  down  there  once,  enough 
to  support  a  population  of  three  or  four  thousand 
people  probably.  Well  !  What  has  become  of 
that  supply?  That's  what  I  want  to  know. 
They  had  it  once — where  is  it  now  ?  " 

For  some  seconds  Dick  stood  in  front  of 
Arthur,  pointing  his  finger  straight  at  him, 
while  Arthur  sat  there  in  silence  gazing  stead- 
fastly at  Dick.  Suddenly,  the  young  Spaniard 
jumped  up,  stepped  forward,  and  slapping  my 
partner  on  his  chest  with  the  back  of  his  hand, 
exclaimed  : 

"  Look  here,  old  man !  I  believe  you  are 
right.  I  believe  there  is  a  stream  somewhere 
which    those   old    Pueblos   used   for   irrigating 


A   Change  of  Plan  239 

their  farms.  It  has  somehow  been  switched  off 
and  lost.  It  ought  to  be  found  and  brought 
back.  Now,  look  here !  I  can't  stay  here  to 
hunt  for  it  myself:  I  must  get  home  right  away. 
But  I'll  make  a  bargain  with  you  :— You  find 
that  stream  and  provide  a  way  of  getting  the 
water  back  to  Hermanos,  and  I'll  give  you  a 
half-interest  in  the  grant— when  I  get  it. 
There,  now  !     There's  a  chance  for  you  ! " 

"  Do  you  mean  that?"  cried  my  partner. 

''  I  certainly  do,"  replied  Arthur.  "  The 
grant  is  without  value  as  it  stands  :  if  you  can 
get  water  on  to  it  and  give  it  a  value,  it  would 
be  only  just  that  you  should  have  a  share  in  the 
profits.  Yes,  I  mean  what  I  say,  all  right.  If 
you'll  supply  the  water,  I'll  supply  the  land. 
There!  What  do  you  say?  Is  it  a  bar- 
gain?" 

For  a  moment  Dick  stood  staring  thought- 
fully at  our  friend,  and  then,  turning  to  me,  he 
exclaimed  sharply  : 

"  Frank  !  Let's  do  it !  Here  we  are,  out  for 
the  summer.  It's  true  we  came  out  to  hunt  for 
a  copper  mine,  but  that  scheme  being  '  busted  ' 
at  the  very  start,  let  us  turn  to  and  hunt  for 
water  instead.     What  do  you  think  ?  " 

"  I'm  agreed  !  "  I  cried. 


240  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

"  Good  !  Then  we'll  do  it !  And  the  very 
first  move " 

"  The  very  first  move,"  interrupted  Arthur, 
laughing,  "  the  very  first  move  is — to  bed  !  It's 
after  eleven !  " 

"  Phew  !  "  Dick  whistled.  "  I'd  no  idea  it 
was  so  late.  To  bed,  then  ;  and  to-morrow  we'll 
work  out  a  plan  of  action.  This  has  been  a 
pretty  long  day,  and  a  pretty  eventful  one,  too. 
So  let's  get  to  bed  at  once,  and  to-morrow  we'll 
start  fair." 

In  spite  of  the  long  day  and  the  lateness  of 
the  hour,  however,  I  could  not  get  to  sleep  at 
once.  Dick,  too,  seemed  to  be  wakeful.  I 
heard  him  stir,  and  opening  my  eyes,  I  saw  him 
sitting  up  in  bed  with  his  arms  clasped  around 
his  blanketed  knees,  gazing  at  the  fire.  Sud- 
denly, he  gave  his  leg  a  mighty  slap  with  his 
open  hand,  and  I  heard  him  chuckle  to  himself. 

"What's  the  matter,  Dick?"  I  whispered. 
"Got  a  flea?" 

"  No,"  he  replied,  laughing  softly.  "  I've  got 
an  idea.  Go  to  sleep,  old  chap.  I'll  tell  you  in 
the  morning." 


CHAPTER  XV 

Dick's  Snap  Shot 

THE  sun  rose  late  down  in  that  deep  crevice, 
and  for  that  reason,  added  to  the  lateness 
of  the  hour  at  which  we  had  gone  to  bed,  we 
did  not  wake  up  next  morning  till  after  six 
o'clock.  We  found,  however,  that  Pedro  had 
been  up  a  couple  of  hours  at  least,  for  he  had  a 
good  fire  going,  had  made  everything  ready  to 
start  breakfast,  and  moreover  he  had  been  up  on 
the  mountain  and  had  brought  down  Arthur's 
horse  and  his  own  burro  from  the  little  valley 
where  they  had  been  left  at  pasture. 

When  I,  myself,  awoke,  I  found  that  Dick 
was  ahead  of  me.  He  was  standing  by  the  fire, 
warming  himself — for  the  mornings  w^ere  still 
cold — and  talking  to  Pedro,  who,  I  guessed,  was 
explaining  something,  for  he  was  waving  his 
long  arms  energetically,  first  in  one  direction 
and  then  in  another. 

"  Well,  Dick,"  said  I,  as  we  sat  cross-legged  on 
the  ground,  eating  our  breakfast,  **  what  is  this 
241 


242  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

idea  of  yours  ?  Does  it  still  look  as  favorable  as 
it  seemed  to  do  last  night?  " 

'*  Better,"  replied  Dick,  with  his  mouth  full 
of  bacon.  *'  A  great  deal  better.  I  felt  pretty 
confident  last  night  that  I  was  on  the  way  to 
earn  that  half-interest  in  the  Hermanos  Grant, 
and  this  morning,  since  talking  with  Pedro,  I 
feel  more  confident  still." 

"  Is  that  so  ?  "  cried  Arthur.  *'  I  hope  you're 
right.  What  is  it  you  think  you  have  dis- 
covered ?  " 

**  In  the  first  place,"  replied  Dick,  "  I  have 
discovered  that  we  are  a  lot  of  wiseacres  :  we 
have  been  going  around  with  our  eyes  shut." 

"  How  ?  "  we  both  asked. 

"  If  we  hadn't  had  our  heads  so  full  of  the  old 
copper  mine,  and  if  we  hadn't  been  so  bent  on 
finding  the  trail  to  it,  we  should  never  have 
made  the  mistake  we  did." 

"What  mistake?"  I  asked.  "Hurry  up, 
Dick  !  Don't  take  so  long  about  it.  What  are 
you  driving  at  ?  " 

"  Why,  this  !  "  replied  my  partner,  suddenly 
sitting  up  straight  and  wagging  his  finger  at  us. 
"  This  trail  we  have  been  following,  all  the  way 
from  Hermanos  up  to  the  edge  of  the  caiion,  was 
not  a  trail  at  all — it  was  a  ditch  !  " 


Dick's  Snap  Shot  243 

"  A  ditch  !  "  we  both  exclaimed. 

"  Yes,  a  ditch.  A  ditcli  dug  by  those  old 
Pueblo  Indians  to  carry  water  down  to  that 
wide,  level  stretch  of  ground  at  the  back  of  the 
Casa.  I'm  sure  of  it.  If  you  give  up  the  idea 
of  a  trail  and  consider  it  as  a  ditch,  all  its 
peculiarities  will  be  explained  at  once.  It  will 
account  for  its  uniform  grade,  for  its  unexpected 
distinctness,  and  more  than  everything  else,  it 
will  account  for  the  fact  that  the  '  trail '  never 
once  dipped  down  a  hill  or  climbed  one  either, 
but  always — invariably — went  round  the  head 
of  every  gully,  deep  or  shallow,  that  came  in  its 
way." 

"  Upon  my  word,  Dick  !  "  cried  Arthur.  "  I 
believe  you  have  made  a  discovery  !  I  believe 
that  it  is  the  line  of  an  old  ditch,  after  all  ; 
though  the  pack-trains  doubtless  used  it  as  a 
convenient  road  as  far  as  the  top  of  the  canon 
and  then  switched  off  down  here  by  that  shelf 
in  the  wall." 

"  That's  my  idea,"  said  Dick,  nodding  his  head. 

"  But,  look  here,  Dick,"  Arthur  went  on,  after 
a  moment's  thoughtful  pause.  "  Suppose  it  is  an 
old  ditch — where  did  the  water  come  from  ? 
That's  the  question.  A  ditch  without  water  isn't 
much  use." 


244  The  Trail   of  the   Badger 

Dick  laughed.  "  No,"  said  he.  "  I  under- 
stand that  well  enough.  The  water  came  from 
this  '  island,'  up  here  above  our  heads,  and  was 
carried  across  the  canon  in  a  flume  I  " 

"  Ah  !  "  I  cried.  "  I  see  !  What  we  at  first 
supposed  to  have  been  a  bridge  up  there,  built 
for  the  accommodation  of  the  pack-trains,  was 
in  reality  a  flume  for  carrying  water." 

"  That's  what  I  believe,"  replied  Dick. 

"  Well,  but  see  here,  Dick,"  remarked  Arthur 
again.  "  Suppose  that  there  was  a  flume  there 
for  carrying  water — where's  the  w^ater  now  ? 
That's  the  point.     That's  what  I  want  to  know." 

"  Ah  !  "  replied  my  partner.  "  And  that  was 
what  I  wanted  to  know,  too.  That  was  the 
very  question  that  bothered  me  until  I  talked  to 
Pedro  about  it  just  now.  I  asked  him  if  he  had 
ever  seen  or  heard  of  a  stream  of  water  coming 
down  from  the  top  of  this  high  land,  and  I  can 
tell  you  he  eased  my  mind  of  a  load  when  he 
told  me  he  had.  He  says  there  is  a  good  big 
waterfall  which  jumps  off"  the  cliff"  on  the  north 
side  of  the  '  island  '  and  falls  into  this  stream 
we  are  camped  upon  now,  but  about  twelve  or 
thirteen  miles  below  this  point,  following  the 
bends  of  the  creek." 

"  Is  that  so  ?     Then  the  chances  are  that  that 


Dick's  Snap  Shot  245 

is  the  stream  from  which  the  Pueblos  used  to 
get  their  water.  Did  you  ask  Pedro  if  he  knew 
of  any  way  of  getting  up  there  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  did,  and  I'm  sorry  to  say  he  doesn't 
know  of  any.  He  says  that  this  *  island '  is 
really  an  island,  being  compassed  about  on  all 
sides  by  canons  of  varying  depths ;  that  it  in- 
cludes a  large  tract  of  country,  part  mountain 
and  part  plain  ;  and  that  to  the  best  of  his 
knowledge,  no  man  has  ever  set  foot  on  it.  In 
that,  though,  I'm  pretty  sure  he's  mistaken.  In 
fact,  it  is  as  certain  as  anything  can  be  that 
there  is  a  way  up  somewhere,  or  else,  how  did 
the  Pueblos  get  over  there  in  the  first  place  ? 
They  didn't  fly  across  this  gorge  ;  and  yet  they 
must  have  worked  from  both  sides  at  once  when 
they  built  their  flume." 

"That's  true.  Well,  Dick,  it  does  look  as 
though  you  had  made  a  genuine  discovery,  and 
one  likely  to  be  of  great  value.  What's  your 
idea,  then  ?  You  and  Frank  will  stay  here  and 
hunt  for  the  old  Pueblo  ditch -head,  I  suppose, 
while  I  dig  out  for  home  by  myself.  I  wish  I 
could  stay  and  hunt  with  you,  but  there's  no 
knowing  how  long  it  ma}^  take,  and  meanwhile 
my  father  and  mother  Avill  be  worrying  them- 
selves to  know  what  has  become  of  me.     I've 


246  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

been  here  now  a  good  bit  longer  than  I  intended. 
I  must  get  back  at  once  and " 

"  Look  here,  Arthur,"  Dick  interrupted. 
"  Excuse  me  for  cutting  in,  but  I'd  like  to  make 
a  suggestion.  There  is  just  a  possibility — I 
don't  expect  it,  I  own,  but  there  is  a  possibility 
— that  if  Galvez  were  informed  that  you  know 
how  he  came  to  be  padron  of  Hermanos,  and 
also  of  his  connection  with  the  Espinosas,  he 
might  get  scared  and  skip  out  of  his  own  accord 
— which  would  simplify  matters  for  you  very 
much.  Now,  here's  what  I  propose — if  you 
really  are  bound  to  leave  at  once." 

"  Yes,"  Arthur  interjected.  "  I  mustn't  stay 
a  minute  longer  than  I  can  help." 

"  Well,  then,  I  propose  that  before  you  go — it. 
will  only  make  a  ditierence  of  a  couple  of  hours 
— before  you  go,  Frank  and  I  will  ride  down  to 
Hermanos,  see  old  Galvez,  tell  him  what  you 
have  told  us,  and  recommend  him  to  take  his 
departure.  Perhaps  he'll  be  scared  and  skip 
out ;  but  if  he  won't,  why,  then  you'll  know 
where  you  stand.     How  does  that  strike  you  ?  " 

"  Hm  !  "  muttered  Arthur,  doubtfully.  "  I 
don't  much  like  the  idea  of  running  you  into 
danger.  Galvez  is  such  a  treacherous  fellow, 
there's  no  knowing  what  he  might  do  to  you." 


Dick's  Snap  Shot  247 

"That's  true  enough,"  said  Dick  ;  "  though  I 
don't  think  he  would  attempt  anything  on  two 
of  us  at  once,  and  in  broad  dayb'ght,  too.  It 
might  be  to  his  advantage  to  get  rid  of  you  or 
Pedro  or  both,  but  he  would  surely  have  sense 
enough  to  see  that  he  wouldn't  gain  anything 
by  hurting  either  of  us." 

"  That's  a  fact.  Well,  suppose  you  go,  then. 
But  be  careful." 

"  We'll  be  careful,"  replied  my  partner. 
"  You  needn't  worry  yourself  on  that  account." 

By  this  time  we  were  ready  to  start,  and  ac- 
cordingly we  all  rode  together  up  the  ledge  until 
we  came  out  again  at  the  point  where  the  old 
flume  used  to  be — where  we  pointed  out  to 
Arthur  the  sockets  in  the  rock — and  thence, 
continuing  to  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  Dick 
and  I,  leaving  the  others  to  wait  for  us,  galloped 
off  toward  Hermanos. 

By  good  fortune,  as  we  approached  the  vil- 
lage, we  saw  Galvez  himself  down  near  the 
creek,  where  he  was  directing  three  of  his 
vaqucros  who  were  engaged  in  cutting  out  cows 
from  a  bunch  of  wild  Mexican  cattle. 

Further  down  stream,  only  a  short  distance 
from  the  houses,  we  noticed  half-a-dozen  ]\Iex- 
ican  children,  very  busy  making  mud  pies,  quite 


248  The  Trail  of  the   Badger 

unconcerned,  apparently,  at  the  proximit}'  of 
the  herd  of  cattle.  It  happened,  however,  that 
just  as  we  came  riding  up  to  where  Galvez  sat 
on  his  horse,  shouting  orders  to  his  men,  a 
gaunt,  wild-eyed,  long-horned  steer  broke  out 
of  the  bunch  on  the  down-stream  side.  One  of 
the  cowmen  dashed  forward  to  turn  it,  when, 
to  his  astonishment,  the  steer,  instead  of  run- 
ning back  into  the  bunch  or  attempting  to 
dodge  him,  charged  the  rider  and  knocked  him 
and  his  little  broncho  over  and  over.  Then, 
wildly  tossing  its  head,  the  beast  made  straight 
for  the  group  of  unsuspecting  and  defenceless 
children. 

"  Loco  !  Loco ! "  shouted  Galvez..  "  Rope  him, 
one  of  you  !  " 

The  two  other  men  galloped  forward,  swing- 
ing their  lariats,  but  the  locoed  steer,  going  like 
a  scared  antelope,  had  such  a  start  that  it  looked 
as  though  it  would  surely  reach  the  children 
before  the  men  could  catch  it.  Seeing  this, 
Galvez  pulled  out  his  revolver  and  fired  six 
shots  at  it  in  quick  succession.  Whether  he  hit 
the  steer  or  not,  I  cannot  say,  but  even  if  he 
did  the  range  was  too  great  for  a  revolver  to  be 
effective — unless  by  a  lucky  chance. 

The  children,  hearing  the  shots,  looked  up, 


Dick's  Snap  Shot  249 

saw  the  steer  coming,  and  scattered  like  a  flock 
of  sparrows — all  but  one  of  them,  that  is  to  say. 
He,  a  brown-bodied  little  three-year-old,  with- 
out a  scrap  of  clothing  upon  him  except  a  piece 
of  string  tied  round  his  middle,  stood  stock  still, 
with  his  little  hands  full  of  mud,  seemingly  too 
frightened  to  move,  and  straight  down  upon  this 
little  bronze  statue  the  crazy  beast  went  charging. 

It  looked  as  though  a  tragedy  were  imminent ! 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  my  partner  and  I 
came  riding  up  behind  Galvez,  who,  sitting  on 
his  horse  with  his  back  to  us,  his  body  inter- 
posed between  us  and  the  steer,  had  not  seen  us 
yet.  It  was  no  time  for  ceremony.  Without 
wasting  words  in  greetings  or  explanations, 
Dick  jammed  his  heels  into  his  pony's  ribs ; 
the  pony  sprang  forward  ;  Dick  pulled  him  up 
short,  leaped  to  the  ground,  threw  up  his  rifle 
and  fired  a  snap  shot.  Down  went  the  steer, 
heels  over  head,  gave  one  kick  and  lay  dead — 
shot  through  the  heart ! 

It  was  a  grand  shot !  The  three  vaqueros,  two 
on  their  horses  and  one  on  foot,  carried  away 
by  their  enthusiasm,  forgot  for  once  their  habit- 
ual dread  of  the  padron,  and  waving  their  hats 
above  their  heads  joined  me  in  a  shout  of  ap- 
plause ;  while  as  for  Galvez,  himself,  he  sat  on 


250  The  Trail   of  the   Badger 

his  horse  with  his  empty  revolver  in  his  hand, 
gazing  open-mouthed  first  at  Dick  and  then  at 
the  dead  steer,  seemingly  rendered  speechless 
for  the  moment. 

At  length  he  turned  to  me,  who  had  come  up 
close  beside  him,  and  said  : 

"  Can  he  always  do  that?" 

"  Just  about,"  I  replied,  with  a  nod.  "  He  is 
one  of  the  best  shots  in  the  State." 

"  Hm  !  "  remarked  the  padron,  sticking  out 
his  lower  lip  and  thoughtfully  scratching  his 
chin  with  his  thumb-nail ;  and  though  that  was 
all  he  did  say,  the  muttered  exclamation  con- 
veyed to  me  as  much  meaning  as  if  he  had 
talked  for  five  minutes. 

That  Dick's  remarkable  shot  had  made  a 
great  impression  on  him  I  felt  certain,  and  it 
was  a  matter  of  much  satisfaction  to  me  to 
think  that  it  had  ;  for  if  at  any  time  he  should 
entertain  the  idea  of  resorting  to  violence  against 
any  of  us,  the  recollection  of  how  that  steer  had 
pitched  heels  over  head  would  probably  cause 
him  to  think  again. 

The  whole  episode  had  not  occupied  more 
than  two  minutes,  at  the  end  of  which  time 
Galvez,  recovering  himself,  turned  to  us  and 
said,  in  his  usual  gracious  manner  : 


Dick's  Snap  Shot  251 

"  Well,  you  two,  what  have  you  come  back 
here  for?  " 

"  We  have  come  down  to  speak  to  you,"  re- 
plied Dick,  as  he  slipped  another  cartridge  into 
his  Sharp's  rifle.  "  We  have  just  parted  with 
Seiior  Blake  and  El  Tejon." 

The  padron  scowled  at  the  mention  of  the 
two  names. 

**0h,  you  have,  eh?  Well,  what  then?"  he 
asked. 

"  Seiior  Blake,"  my  partner  continued, 
"  wished  us  to  say  that  he  has  learned  how 
you  came  to  be  padron  of  Hermanos.  Pedro 
has  told  him  the  whole  story — everything — the 
Espinosa  business  and  all." 

"  Oh  !     And  is  that  all  ?  " 

"  That's  all,"  said  Dick. 

The  padron,  I  have  no  doubt,  had  been  ex- 
pecting some  such  communication  and  had  made 
up  his  mind  beforehand  what  to  say,  for,  after 
sitting  for  a  few  seconds  looking  at  Dick  with- 
out a  word,  he  smiled  an  unpleasant,  toothless 
smile,  and  said  : 

"  That's  all,  is  it?  Well,  you  go  back  to  your 
Senor  Blake  and  tell  him  that  here  I  am  and 
here  I  stay,  and  if  he  thinks  that  three  beard- 
less  boys  and   a  shiftless,  half-crazy  peon   can 


252  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

make  me  move,  why,  he's  welcome  to  try. 
There!  That's  all  on  my  side."  He  started  to 
ride  off,  but  after  a  few  steps  stopped  again  to 
add  :  "  Except  this  : — I  recommend  you  two 
boys  to  get  along  back  home  as  fast  as  you  can 
and  leave  this  young  Blake — if  that  is  really  his 
name — to  manage  his  own  affairs.  You  may 
find  it  dangerous  to  be  mixed  up  with  them." 

He  said  this  in  an  aggressive,  menacing  tone ; 
but  I  noticed,  all  the  same,  that  his  eye  wan- 
dered involuntarily  toward  the  dead  steer,  and 
I  congratulated  myself  again  on  the  lucky 
chance  that  had  given  Dick  the  opportunity  to 
show  his  skill  with  a  rifle.  Galvez,  I  was  con- 
vinced, would  be  exceedingly  careful  how  he 
provoked  a  quarrel  with  any  one  who  could 
shoot  like  that. 

"  Very  well,  seiior,"  said  Dick.  "  We  will 
deliver  your  message.  That  is  all  we  came  for." 
And  with  that  we  turned  round  and  rode  away 
again. 

In  the  course  of  an  hour  we  were  back  at  the 
foot  of  the  mountain,  where  we  found  Arthur 
sitting  on  the  ground  waiting  for  us. 

"Well,  what  luck?"  he  cried.  "What  did 
Galvez  have  to  say  ?  " 

We  told  him  all  about  our  interview  with  the 


Dick's  Snap  Shot  253 

padron,  not  forgetting  the  episode  of  the  wild 
steer,  at  hearing  which  Arthur  expressed  much 
gratification. 

"  That  was  a  very  fortunate  chance,"  said  he. 
"  Galvez  may  profess  to  despise  three  beardless 
boys,  but  after  seeing  one  of  them  shoot  a  run- 
ning steer  at  three  hundred  yards,  I  expect 
he  will  think  twice  before  he  stirs  up  a 
fuss  with  them.  It  is  just  the  sort  of  thing 
— and  the  only  sort  of  thing,  too — to  make  an 
impression  on  a  man  like  that.  What  is  your 
idea,  Dick  ?  Do  you  think  he  intends  to  stick 
it  out,  or  was  he  only  '  bluffing  '  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  my  partner.  "  I'm 
afraid  he  means  to  hold  on.  But  though  at 
present  he  puts  on  '  a  brag  countenance,'  as  the 
saying  is,  when  he  has  had  time  to  reconsider 
he  might  change  his  mind  and  skip.  My  im- 
pression is,  though,  that  he  means  to  hold  on." 

"  I  think  so,  too,"  said  I.  "  What  is  Pedro's 
opinion  ?  " 

''  Ah  !     Yes.     Let  us  ask  Pedro." 

"  Senores,"  said  the  Mexican,  when  Arthur 
had  explained  the  whole  matter  to  him  in 
Spanish,  "  the  padron  is  a  pig,  a  mule.  He 
will  not  move." 

"Then  that  settles  it !"  cried  Arthur,  jump- 


254  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

ing  up,  walking  away  a  few  paces  and  coming 
back  again.  "  I  never  really  expected  that 
Galvez  would  move,  though  it  was  worth  try- 
ing. So  now  I'll  be  off  at  once.  As  for  that 
old  ditch-head,  though  I  should  have  liked  very 
much  to  stay  and  help  hunt  for  it,  you  three 
can,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  make  the  search  just  as 
well  without  me.  And  whether  you  find  it  or 
whether  you  don't,  makes  no  difference  in  one 
way — the  business  of  getting  Galvez  out  of 
Hermanos  will  have  to  proceed  regardless  of 
that  or  any  other  consideration.  We  have  two 
things  to  do,  you  see  : — To  turn  out  Galvez  and 
to  find  that  ditch-head.  The  first  is  my  busi- 
ness ;  the  second  is  yours  ;  and  the  sooner  I  get 
about  mine  the  better,  if  I  am  to  give  you  a 
clear  title  to  your  half-interest  when  you  are 
ready  to  claim  it." 

"As  to  that,"  remarked  Dick,  "  I  don't  think 
we  ought  to  hold  you  to  that  bargain.  It  was 
made  more  or  less  in  joke,  anyhow." 

"  No,  no,  it  wasn't !  "  cried  Arthur,  emphatic- 
ally. "  Not  a  bit  of  it !  I  meant  it  then  and 
I  mean  it  still.  I'm  quite  content.  You  pro- 
vide the  water  and  I'll  provide  the  land,  as  I 
said.  It's  a  fair  bargain.  I  don't  want  to  be 
let  off.     But  before  I  can  perform  my  part  of  it 


Dick's  Snap  Shot  255 

I  must  prove  my  own  title,  and  as  I  can't  do  it 
at  this  end  of  the  line  I'll  waste  no  more  time 
here,  but  get  right  back  home  as  fast  as  I  can 
and  report  the  conditions  to  my  father." 

"  Well,"  said  Dick,  after  a  moment's  thought- 
ful silence,  "  I  believe  you  are  right.  I  believe 
that  is  the  best  way  after  all,  unless " 

"  Unless  what  ?  " 

"  Unless  we  abandon  the  whole  thing." 

"  Abandon !  "  cried  Arthur  ;  but  he  got 

no  further,  for  Dick,  holding  up  his  hand,  said, 
laughingly  : 

"  All  right,  old  man !  All  right !  You 
needn't  say  any  more.  I  only  suggested  it  just 
to  see  what  you  would  say.  So  you  are  deter- 
mined to  go  through  with  this  thing,  are  you? 
Very  well,  then,  you  may  count  on  us  to  do  our 
part  if  it's  doable.     Eh,  Frank  ?  " 

I  nodded.  "  We'll  find  that  ditch-head,"  said 
I,  "  if  we  have  to  stay  here  till  snow  flies." 

"Good!"  cried  Arthur.  "Then  that  does 
settle  it.  I'll  be  off  this  minute.  Bring  my 
horse,  Pedro  :     I'm  going  to  start  at  once." 

"  Look  here,  Arthur,"  remarked  Dick.  "  I 
think  it  would  be  a  good  plan  if  Frank  and  I 
were  to  escort  you  to  the  other  side  of  Hermanos. 
Galvez,  I  expect,  guessed  what  you  were  after 


256  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

when  you  first  told  him  your  narae,  and  now 
he'll  be  sure  of  it,  and  it  might  be  pretty  dan- 
gerous for  you  if  you  should  meet  him  alone ; 
so  we'll  just  ride  part  way  with  you  and  see  you 
safely  started." 

"  Thanks,"  replied  Arthur.  "  I  shall  be  glad 
of  your  company.  Well,  let  us  get  off,  then. 
Good-bye,  Pedro.  I  expect  you'll  see  me  back 
here  before  very  long.     Adios !  " 

Thus  taking  leave  of  the  burly  Mexican, 
Arthur  started  off,  Dick  and  I  riding  on  either 
side  of  him. 

Keeping  about  a  mile  to  the  north  of  Her- 
manos,  we  circled  round  that  village,  and  were 
making  our  way  southeastward  toward  the  Cactus 
Desert,  when  we  saw  off  to  our  right  a  great 
cloud  of  dust,  and  in  the  midst  of  it  a  bunch  of 
cattle  accompanied  by  three  men. 

At  first  we  were  suspicious  that  Galvez  might 
be  one  of  them,  but  pretty  soon  we  discovered 
that  they  were  the  three  vaqueros  we  had  seen 
that  morning.  They,  on  their  part,  quickly 
detected  us,  when  one  of  them  immediately 
turned  his  horse  and  came  riding  toward  us. 

As  soon  as  he  had  come  pretty  close  I  saw 
that  it  was  the  one  whose  horse  had  been 
knocked  over  by  the  locoed  steer.     This  man, 


Dick's  Snap  Shot  257 

advancing  to  Dick,  pulled  off  his  hat,  and  speak- 
ing with  considerable  feeling,  said  : 

*'  I  wish  to  thank  the  sefior  who  shoots  so 
straight.  It  was  my  little  boy  who  was  in 
danger." 

"  Was  it?  "  cried  Dick.  "  I'm  very  glad,  then, 
that  I  happened  to  make  such  a  good  shot. 
The  steer  was  locoed,  of  course." 

"  Si,  sefior,"  replied  the  man.  "  It  happens 
sometimes.  This  one  was  very  bad.  It  should 
have  been  killed  long  ago,  but  thepadron  would 
not.  I  am  grateful  to  the  senor,  and  if  I  can 
serve  him  at  any  time  I  shall  be  glad." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Dick.  "  What  is  your 
name?" 

•*  Jose  Santanna,"  replied  the  man. 

"  Well,  Jose,"  continued  Dick,  "  I'm  much 
obliged  to  you  for  your  offer,  and  if  I  need  your 
help  at  any  time  I'll  come  and  ask  you." 

"  Gracias,  sefior,"  replied  the  man  ;  and  v/ith 
that  he  turned  and  galloped  after  his  com- 
panions. 

"  That's  a  good  thing  for  us,"  remarked 
Arthur.  "  We  may  find  it  very  handy  to  have 
an  ally  in  the  enemy's  camp.  And  now,  you 
fellows,"  he  continued,  "you  may  as  well  turn 
back.     I'm  safe  enough   now,  and  there  is  no 


258  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

need  for  you  to  come  any  further.  I  hope  it 
won't  be  long  before  you  see  me  back  again. 
Meanwhile  you'll  search  for  that  ditch-head,  and 
if  there  is  anything  you  can  do  toward  getting 
the  water  down,  you'll  go  ahead  and  do  it. 
That's  the  plan,  eh  ?  " 

"  That's  the  plan,"  repeated  my  partner. 

"  Very  well.  Then,  good-bye,  and  good  luck 
to  you !  " 


CHAPTER  XVI 

The  Old  Pueblo  Head-Gate 

IT  was  about  two  in  the  afternoon  that  we 
parted  with  our  friend,  and  wishing  him  the 
best  of  success,  we  watched  him  ride  away  until 
the  shimmering  haze  drawn  by  the  heat  of  the 
sun  from  the  surface  of  the  valley,  finally 
obscured  him  from  our  view  altogether.  Then, 
turning  our  ponies,  we  rode  back  up  the  moun- 
tain and  once  more  descended  to  our  camp, 
where  we  found  Pedro  waiting  for  us. 

As  it  was  then  too  late  to  begin  any  fresh 
enterprise,  especially  one  so  difficult  as  the  at- 
tempt to  climb  the  cafion-w'all  was  likely  to  be, 
we  determined  to  postpone  the  expedition  until 
next  morning.  In  order,  too,  that  we  might  be 
in  good  fettle  for  the  adventure,  we  went  to  bed 
that  night  as  soon  as  it  got  dark  ;  no  more  late 
hours  for  us  ;  late  hours  at  night  not  being  con- 
ducive to  clear  heads  in  the  morning — and  it 
was  more  than  likely  that  clear  heads  might  be 
very  essential  to  the  success  of  the  task  in  hand. 

About  an  hour  after  sunrise  we  set  off  on  foot 
259 


26o  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

down  the  left  bank  of  the  stream,  making  our 
way  along  the  steep  slope  of  stone  scraps,  big 
and  little,  which  bordered  its  edge,  and  after  a 
pretty  rough  scramble  we  reached  a  spot  about 
a  mile  below  camp  w^here  Pedro  had  told  us  he 
thought  there  was  a  possible  way  up — a  narrow 
cleft  in  the  rocky  wall,  none  too  wide  to  admit  the 
passage  of  the  Mexican's  big  body — and  follow- 
ing the  sturdy  hunter,  who  acted  as  guide,  we 
began  the  ascent. 

There  was  no  great  difficulty  about  it  at  first, 
for  the  crevice,  though  still  very  narrow,  was 
not  particularly  steep.  After  climbing  up 
about  three  hundred  feet,  however,  the  ascent 
became  much  more  abrupt,  and  presently  we 
came  to  a  place  where  the  bed  of  the  dry  water- 
course was  blocked  entirely  by  a  smooth,  water- 
worn  mass  of  rock,  twenty  feet  high,  filling  the 
whole  width  of  the  crevice,  and  overhanging  in 
such  a  manner  that  even  a  lizard  would  have 
had  difficulty  in  climbing  up  it. 

We  were  looking  about  for  some  means  of 
surmounting  this  obstacle,  when  Pedro,  who  had 
stepped  back  a  little  to  survey  it,  called  our 
attention  to  what  appeared  to  be  a  number  of 
steps,  or,  rather,  foot-holes  in  the  rock  about  ten 
feet  up,  just  above  the  bulge. 


The  Old  Pueblo  Head-Gate         261 

"  Hallo  !  "  cried  Dick.  "  This  looks  promis- 
ing. Those  holes  were  made  with  a  purpose. 
I  believe  we've  struck  the  original  Pueblo  high- 
way after  all." 

"  It  does  look  like  it/'  I  agreed.  "  But  how 
are  we  going  to  get  up  there  ?  " 

"  Senor,"  said  Pedro  to  Dick,  "  if  you  will 
stand  on  my  shoulders,  I  think  you  can  reach 
those  holes." 

'*  All  right,"  replied  Dick.     "  Let's  try." 

It  was  simple  enough.  Dick  easily  reached 
the  lower  steps,  which,  it  was  hardly  to  be 
doubted,  had  been  cut  for  the  purpose,  and 
scrambled  up  to  the  top.  Then,  letting  down 
the  rope  we  had  brought  for  such  an  emergency, 
he  called  to  me  to  come  up.  With  a  boost  from 
Pedro,  and  with  the  rope  to  hold  on  by,  I  was 
quickly  standing  beside  my  partner,  when  up 
came  Pedro  himself,  hand  over  hand. 

If  this  was  really  the  road  by  which  the 
Pueblos  originally  came  up — and  from  those 
nicks  in  the  rock  we  felt  pretty  sure  it  was — it 
w^as  the  roughest  and  by  long  odds  the  most  up- 
ended road  we  had  ever  traveled  over.  It  was, 
in  fact,  a  climb  rather  than  a  walk  :  we  had  to 
use  our  hands  nearly  all  the  time. 

We  had  come  within  a  hundred  feet  of  the 


262  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

top,  when,  looking  upward,  I  was  startled  to 
see  on  an  overhanging  ledge  a  large,  tawny, 
cat-like  animal  calmly  sitting  there  looking 
down  at  us. 

"  Look  there,  Dick !  "  I  cried.  "  What's 
that?" 

''  A  mountain-lion  !  "  exclaimed  my  partner. 
"  My  !     What  a  shot !  " 

It  happened,  however,  that  we  were  at  a  point 
where  it  was  necessary  to  hold  on  with  our 
hands  to  prevent  ourselves  from  slipping  back  ; 
it  was  impossible  to  shoot.  The  "  lion  "  there- 
fore continued  to  stare  at  us  and  we  at  him, 
until  Dick  shouted  at  him,  when  the  beast 
leisurely  walked  off  and  disappeared  round  a 
corner. 

"  Well  !  "  remarked  my  companion.  "  I 
never  saw  a  mountain-lion  so  calm  and  un- 
concerned before.  As  a  rule  they  are  the  shyest 
of  animals." 

"  All  the  animals  up  here  are  like  that,"  re- 
marked Pedro.  "  Many  times  since  I  have 
lived  on  the  mountain  I  have  seen  them  come 
down  to  the  edge  of  the  canon  to  look  at  me — 
deer  and  even  mountain-sheep  and  wolves  ;  yes, 
many   times   wolves.      They    have   no   fear   of 


The  Old   Pueblo   Head-Gate         263 

"  That's  queer,"  said  I.    "  I  wonder  why  not." 

"  Senor,"  replied  Pedro,  looking  rather  sur- 
prised at  my  lack  of  intelligence,  **  it  is  simple  : 
since  the  days  of  the  Pueblos  there  has  been  no 
man  up  here." 

"  Why,  I  suppose  there  hasn't ! "  cried  Dick. 
"  That  didn't  occur  to  me  before,  either.  It 
will  be  interesting  to  see  how  the  wild  animals 
behave,  Frank.  It  will  be  like  Robinson  Crusoe 
on  his  island." 

He  spoke  in  Spanish,  as  we  always  did  when 
Pedro  was  in  company,  not  wishing  him  to  feel 
that  he  was  left  out.  It  was  Pedro  who  re- 
plied. 

"  I  know  not,"  said  he,  "  the  honorable  gentle- 
man, Seiior  Don  Crusoe,  of  whom  you  speak, 
but  for  ourselves  we  must  have  care." 

"  Why,  Pedro.     What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

*'  The  wolves  up  here  are  many,  and  they  will 
surely  smell  us  out." 

"  Well,  suppose  they  do,  Pedro.  What  then  ?  " 
asked  Dick,  jokingly.  "  You  are  not  afraid  of 
wolves,  are  you?" 

This  seemed  a  reasonable  question,  remember- 
ing how  boldly  he  had  faced  them  that  time  at 
the  head  of  the  iNIescalero  valley. 

"  Most  times  I  have  no  fear,"  replied  Pedro, 


264  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

simply,  "  but  up  here  it  is  different.  These 
wolves  know  not  what  a  man  is ;  they  will 
smell  us  out,  and  they  will  think  only,  '  Here 
is  something  to  eat ;  '  they  do  not  know  enough 
to  be  afraid." 

"  I  suppose  that  is  likely,"  Dick  assented. 
"  You  are  quite  right,  Pedro :  we  must  take 
care.  I  don't  suppose  there  will  be  anything  to 
fear  from  them  during  daylight,  but  we'll  keep 
a  sharp  lookout,  all  the  same.  Come  on,  let  us 
get  forward." 

In  another  ten  minutes  we  had  reached  the 
top,  when,  turning  up-stream,  we  presently 
came  to  the  dr}^  gully  which  led  down  to  where 
the  old  flume  once  stood.  Thence,  turning 
"  inland,"  as  one  might  say,  we  followed  up  the 
bed  of  this  gully,  finding  that  it  had  its  head 
in  a  little  grassy  basin  which  looked  as  though 
it  had  once  been  a  small  lake.  In  crossing  this 
basin  we  stirred  up  from  among  the  bushes  a 
band  of  blacktail  deer,  which  ran  off  about 
fifty  yards  and  then  stood  still  to  look  at  us  ; 
these  usually  shy  animals  being  evidently  con- 
sumed with  curiosity  at  the  sight  of  three 
strange  beasts  walking  on  their  hind  legs.  Un- 
doubtedly, we  were  the  first  human  beings  they 
had  ever  encountered. 


The  Old   Pueblo   Head-Gate  265 

We  did  not  molest  them,  but  pursuing  our 
course  across  the  little  basin,  we  were  about  to 
proceed  up  a  narrow,  stony  draw  at  its  further 
end,  when  a  sudden  scurry  of  feet  behind  us 
caused  us  to  look  back.  The  band  of  deer  had 
vanished,  and  in  their  stead  were  four  wolves, 
which,  when  we  turned  round,  drew  up  in  line 
and  stood  staring  at  us  ! 

As  Dick  had  said,  the  wild  animals  up  here 
were  making  themselves  decidedly  "  interest- 
ing." 

Pedro  had  an  arrow  fitted  to  his  bow  in  an 
instant,  while  Dick  and  I  simultaneously 
cocked  our  rifles  and  stood  ready.  The  wolves, 
however,  remained  stationary  ;  it  was  evidently 
curiosity  and  not  hunger  that  inspired  them. 
Seeing  this,  I  picked  up  a  pebble  and  threw  it 
at  them,  just  to  see  what  they  would  think  of 
it.  The  stone  struck  the  ground  close  under 
their  noses,  making  them  all  start,  passed  be- 
tween two  of  them  and  went  hopping  along  the 
ground,  when,  to  our  great  amusement,  the 
whole  row  of  them  turned,  ran  after  the  stone, 
sniffed  at  it,  one  after  the  other,  and  then  came 
back  to  the  old  position.  It  looked  so  comical 
that  Dick  and  I  burst  out  laughing  ;  whereupon 
the  wolves,  who  had  doubtless  never  heard  such 


266  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

a  sound  before,  retreated  a  few  paces,  where  they 
once  more  turned  round  to  stare  at  us. 

"  Well,  Pedro  !  "  cried  Dick.  "  They  don't 
seem  to  be  very  dangerous.  If  all  the  wolves 
up  here  are  like  that  we  needn't  be  afraid  of 
them." 

*'  They  are  not  hungry  just  now,"  replied 
Pedro,  so  significantly  that  our  merriment  was 
checked ;  "  and  you  see  for  3^ourselves,"  he 
added,  "  that  a  man  is  a  new  animal  to  them. 
They  know  not  what  to  make  of  us.  It  is  that 
which  makes  me  uneas3^  A  big  pack  of  hungry 
wolves  would  be  very  dangerous,  for  the  reason 
that  they  have  never  learned  that  we  are  danger- 
ous, too.     For  me,  I  am  afraid  of  them." 

Such  an  admission,  coming  from  such  a  man,. 
one  who,  we  knew,  was  not  lacking  in  courage, 
was  impressive ;  so,  in  order  that  he  should  not 
regard  us  as  merely  a  pair  of  careless,  light- 
headed boys,  Dick  assured  him  in  all  earnest- 
ness that  we  had  no  intention  of  treating  the 
matter  lightly ;  that  we  fully  understood  and 
agreed  with  his  view  of  the  matter. 

"  You  are  quite  right,  Pedro,"  said  he.  "  We 
can't  afford  to  be  careless.  A  pack  of  wolves  is 
dangerous  enough  when  you  know  what  to  ex- 
pect of  them,  but  when  you  don't !     It  will 


The  Old   Pueblo   Head-Gate         267 

pay  us  to  be  careful,  all  right ;  there's  no  doubt 
about  that.  Come  on,  now.  Let  us  get  ahead. 
Those  beasts  back  there  have  gone  off — to  tell 
the  others,  perhaps." 

Proceeding  up  the  stony  draw  for  about  half 
a  mile,  we  presently  came  upon  a  most  un- 
expected sight :— a  little  lake,  covering  perhaps 
a  space  of  twenty  acres,  its  surface,  smooth  as  a 
mirror,  reflecting  the  trees  and  rocks  surround- 
ing it,  and  dotted  all  over  with  hundreds  of  wild 
ducks  and  geese. 

"  Here's  the  head  of  the  ditch !  "  cried  Dick, 
exultingiy.  "  Here's  where  the  Pueblos  got 
their  water !  They  drew  from  this  lake  down 
the  gully  we  have  just  come  up.  The  mouth  of 
the  draw  has  been  blocked  by  the  caving  of  the 
sides,  you  see,  but  it  will  be  an  easy  job  to  dig  a 
narrow  trench  through  the  dam,  and  then  the 
pitch  is  so  great  that  the  water  will  soon  scour 
a  channel  for  itself.  Don't  you  think  so,  Pedro  ? 
The  water  must  have  run  down  here,  filled  the 
grassy  basin  where  the  deer  were,  flowed  out  at 
its  lower  end  down  the  gully  to  the  flume,  and 
then  by  the  ditch  over  the  foothills  to  the  valley. 
Wasn't  that  the  way  of  it,  Pedro?  " 

It  was  natural  that  Dick  should  address  his 
question  to  the  Mexican  rather  than  to  me,  for 


268  The  Trail  of  the   Badger 

Pedro,  one  of  a  race  that  had  followed  irrigation 
for  centuries,  knew  far  more  of  its  practical 
possibilities  than  I  did,  and  his  opinion  was 
infinitely  more  valuable  than  mine  was  likely 
to  be.  In  reply,  he  nodded  his  big  head  and 
said,  gravely  : 

"  That  is  it.  It  is  not  possible  to  doubt.  The 
Pueblos  drew  their  water  from  the  lake  at  this 
point.     That  is  very  sure.     But " 

"But  what?"  asked  Dick. 

"  This  lake  is  small,  and  I  see  nowhere  any 
stream  coming  into  it,"  replied  Pedro. 

"  That's  a  fact,"  Dick  assented.  "  Perhaps  it 
is  fed  by  underground  springs.  Let  us  walk 
round  the  lake  and  see  where  the  water  runs 
out  and  how  much  of  a  stream  there  is.  That 
is  what  concerns  us.  Where  it  comes  from 
doesn't  matter  particularly — it's  how  much  of  it 
there  is." 

Our  walk  round  the  little  lake,  however,  re- 
sulted in  a  disappointment  which  staggered  us 
for  the  moment.  There  was  no  outlet.  The 
lake  was  land-locked  ;  the  one  insignificant 
rivulet  we  found  running  into  it  being  evidently 
no  more  than  enough  to  counterbalance  the 
daily  evaporation. 

"  Well,"  remarked  Dick,  after  a  long  pause. 


The  Old  Pueblo   Head-Gate         269 

"  there  is  one  thing  sure :  the  Pueblos  never 
built  a  flume  and  dug  that  big,  long  ditch  to 
carry  this  trifling  amount  of  water.  This  lake, 
after  all,  was  not  the  source  of  supply,  as  we 
were  supposing.  It  was  a  reservoir,  perhaps, 
but  nothing  more.  The  real  source  was  some- 
where higher  up." 

If  Dick  was  right — and  there  could  be  hardly 
a  doubt  that  he  was — the  most  promising  direc- 
tion in  which  to  continue  our  search  would  be 
on  the  west  side  of  the  lake,  whence  the  little 
rivulet  came  down.  An  examination  of  the 
ravine  in  which  the  stream  ran  showed  evidence 
that  it  had  at  one  time  carried  much  more  water 
than  at  present,  so,  with  hopes  renewed,  we  set 
off  at  once  along  its  steep,  stony  bed. 

The  country  on  that  side  was  very  rough  and 
precipitous,  and  the  ravine  itself,  reasonably 
wide  at  first,  became  narrower  and  narrower, 
and  its  sides  more  and  more  lofty,  until  pres- 
ently it  became  so  contracted  that  we  might 
have  imagined  ourselves  to  be  walking  up  a 
very  narrow  lane  with  rows  of  ten-story  houses 
on  either  side.  The  sky  above  us  was  a  mere 
ribbon  of  blue. 

After  climbing  upward  for  about  half  a  mile, 
we  began  to  catch  occasional  glimpses  ahead  of  us 


270  The  Trail  of  the   Badger 

of  a  frowning  cliff  which  bade  fair  to  bar  our  fur- 
ther progress  altogether,  and  we  were  beginning 
to  wonder  whether  we  had  not  chosen  the  wrong 
raxdne  after  all,  when  suddenl}^  with  one  ac- 
cord, we  all  stopped  short  and  cocked  our  ears. 
There  was  a  sound  of  running  water  somewhere 
close  by  1 

There  was  a  bend  in  the  gorge  just  here,  and 
we  could  not  see  ahead,  but  the  instant  we  de- 
tected the  sound  of  water,  Dick,  with  a  shout, 
sprang  forward,  and  with  me  close  on  his  heels 
and  the  short-legged  Pedro  some  distance  in  the 
rear,  dashed  up  the  bed  of  the  ravine  and  round 
the  corner. 

What  a  wonderful  sight  met  our  gaze  !  Out 
of  the  great  cliff  I  mentioned  just  now  there 
came  roaring  down  a  magnificent  stream,  which, 
falling  into  a  deep  pool  it  had  worn  for  itself  in 
the  rocks,  went  boiling  and  foaming  off  through 
a  second  ravine  to  the  right— a  fine  thing  to  see  ! 

But  what  was  finer,  and  infinitely  more  in- 
teresting, was  the  original  Pueblo  head-gate,  so 
set  in  the  narrow  gorge  in  which  we  stood  that 
the  water,  which,  if  left  to  itself,  would  have 
flowed  down  our  ravine,  was  forced  to  run  off 
through  the  other  channel. 

It  was  a  remarkable  piece  of  work  for  such 


The  Old  Pueblo   Head-Gate         271 

a  primitive  people  to  have  performed,  consider- 
ing especially  the  very  inferior  tools  they  had 
to  do  it  with.  The  walls  of  the  gorge  came  to- 
gether at  this  point  in  such  a  manner  that  they 
were  not  more  than  five  feet  apart  and  were  so 
straight-up-and-down  that  they  looked  as  though 
they  had  been  trimmed  by  hand — as  possibly 
they  had  been  to  some  extent.  Taking  advan- 
tage of  this  narrow  gap,  the  Pueblos  had  cut  a 
deep  groove  in  the  rocks  on  either  side  of  the 
ravine,  and  in  these  grooves  they  had  set  up 
on  end  a  great  flat  stone  about  five  feet  high 
and  three  inches  thick — it  must  have  weighed  a 
thousand  pounds  or  more. 

Against  this  stone  head-gate,  on  its  inner  side, 
the  water  stood  four  feet  deep,  and  it  was  ob- 
vious that  when  the  gate  was  raised  the  flood 
would  go  raging  down  the  gorge  we  had  just 
ascended  into  the  little  lake  below,  leaving  the 
bed  in  which  it  now  ran  high  and  dry. 

Undoubtedly,  it  was  this  stone  door  with 
which  the  Pueblos  used  to  regulate  their  water- 
supply,  prying  it  up  and  holding  it  in  position, 
perhaps,  with  blocks  of  wood,  which,  after  the 
Indians  deserted  the  valley,  had  in  time  rotted 
away,  allowing  the  gate  to  fall,  thus  shutting 
off  the  water  entirely. 


272  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

However  that  may  have  been,  one  thing  at 
any  rate  was  certain  : — Whenever  our  flume  and 
our  ditch  were  ready,  here  was  water  enough 
for  thousands  of  acres  only  waiting  to  be  let 
loose. 

For  a  long  time  Dick  and  I  stood  with  our 
hands  resting  on  the  top  of  the  head-gate  and 
our  chins  resting  on  our  hands,  watching  the 
water  as  it  went  foaming  and  splashing  down 
the  other  ravine,  and  as  we  stood  there,  there 
came  over  us  by  degrees  a  sense  of  the  real  im- 
portance to  us  of  this  discovery.  We  were  only 
boys,  after  all,  and  we  had  gone  into  this  enter- 
prise more  or  less  in  the  spirit  of  adventure,  but 
now  it  gradually  dawned  upon  us  that  we  had 
in  reality  arrived  at  a  point  where  the  roads 
forked  : — Here,  ready  to  our  hands,  was  work 
for  a  lifetime,  and  we  had  to  decide  whether  we 
were  going  into  it  heart  and  soul  or  whether  we 
were  not.  Every  boy  arrives  at  this  fork  in  the 
roads  sooner  or  later,  and  when  he  does,  he  is 
apt  to  feel  pretty  serious.     I  know  we  did. 

With  us,  however,  the  question  seemed  to  set- 
tle itself,  for  Dick,  presently  straightening  up 
and  turning  to  me,  said  : 

*'  Frank  !  What  will  your  Uncle  Tom  say  ? 
Will  he  be  willing  that  you  should  stay  out  in 


The  Old   Pueblo   Head-Gate         273 

this  country  and  take  to  wheat-raising  and 
ditch-building  and  so  forth  ?  " 

"  If  I  know  Uncle  Tom,"  I  replied,  "  he'll  be 
not  only  willing  but  delighted.  If  we  make  a 
success  of  this  thing — as  we  will  if  hard  work 
will  do  it — just  imagine  how  proudly  he  will 
point  to  us  as  proofs  of  his  theory  that  a  fellow 
may  sometimes  learn  more  out  of  school  than  in 
it.  In  fact,  if  I'm  not  much  mistaken,  he  will 
be  eager  to  help  ;  and  if  we  need  money  for  the 
work,  as  we  certainly  shall,  I  shan't  hesitate  to 
ask  him  for  it.  I  shall  inherit  a  little  when  I 
come  of  age,  and  I'm  pretty  sure  Uncle  Tom  will 
advance  me  some  if  I  need  it.  But  how  about 
the  professor,  Dick  ?  How  will  he  fancy  the 
idea  of  your  settling  down  in  this  valley  ?  For 
if  we  do  go  into  this  thing  in  earnest,  that  is 
what  it  means." 

"  I  know  it  does,"  replied  my  companion, 
seriously.  "  And  I'm  glad  of  it.  I'll  let  you 
into  a  little  secret,  Frank.  For  some  time  past 
the  professor  has  been  worrying  himself  as  to 
what  was  to  become  of  me  :  what  business  or 
occupation  I  was  fit  for  with  my  peculiar  bring- 
ing-up — for  there  is  no  getting  over  the  fact 
that  it  has  been  peculiar — and  the  professor, 
considering  himself  responsible  for  it,  has  been 


274  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

pretty  anxious  about  the  result.  Now,  here  is 
an  occupation  all  laid  out  for  me,  and  nobody 
will  be  so  pleased  to  hear  of  it  as  the  professor. 
It  will  take  a  burden  off  his  mind  ;  and  I'm 
mighty  glad  to  think  it  will." 

"  I  see,"  said  I.  "  I  should  think  you  would 
be  :  such  a  fine  old  fellow  as  he  is.  So,  then, 
Dick,  it  is  settled,  is  it,  that  we  go  ahead  ? 
What's  the  first  move,  then  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  first  move  of  all,  I  think,  is  to  get 
back  to  the  lake  and  eat  our  lunch,  and  while 
we  are  doing  so  we  can  consult  as  to  what  work 
to  start  upon  and  how  to  set  about  it.  What 
time  is  it,  Pedro  ?  " 

"  Midday  and  ten  minutes,"  promptly  re- 
plied the  Mexican,  casting  an  eye  at  the  sun  ; 
while  I,  pulling  out  ray  watch,  saw  that  he  had 
hit  it  exactly,  as  he  always  did,  I  found  later. 

"  Then  let  us  get  back  to  the  lake,"  said  Dick. 
"  Hark  !  What  was  that  ?  The  water  makes  so 
much  noise  that  I  can't  be  sure,  but  it  sounded 
to  me  like  wolves  howling." 

Pedro  nodded  his  big  head.  "  It  will  be  well 
to  go  down  to  where  there  are  some  trees,"  said 
he.  "  This  arroyo,  with  its  high  walls,  is  not  a 
good  place." 

As  we  walked  down  the  ravine  and  got  further 


The  Old   Pueblo   Head-Gate         275 

away  from  the  water,  we  could  hear  more  dis- 
tinctly the  cry  of  the  wolves.  Pedro  stopped 
short  and  listened  intently. 

"  There  is  a  good  many  of  them,"  said  he. 
"  I  think  they  come  hunting  us.  Let  us  get  up 
on  this  rock  here  and  wait  a  little." 

In  the  middle  of  the  ravine  lay  a  great  flat- 
topped  stone,  about  six  feet  high,  and  to  the 
top  of  this  we  soon  scrambled — there  was  plenty 
of  room — and  there  for  a  minute  or  two  we 
waited.  The  cry  of  the  hunting  wolves  grew 
louder  and  louder,  and  presently,  around  a  bend 
a  short  distance  below,  loping  along  with  their 
noses  to  the  ground,  there  came  a  band  of  six- 
teen of  them.  At  sight  of  us  they  stopped  short, 
and  then — showing  plainly  that  they  knew  of 
no  danger  to  themselves — with  a  yell  of  delight 
at  having  run  down  their  prey,  as  they  sup- 
posed, they  came  charging  up  the  ravine ! 


CHAPTER  XVII 

The  Bridge 

AS  the  pack  came  racing  up  the  gulch,  we 
waited  an  instant  until  a  narrow  place 
crowded  them  into  a  bunch,  when  Dick  called 
out,  *'  Now  !  "  and  we  all  fired  together  into  the 
midst  of  them.  Three  of  the  wolves  fell,  two 
dead — I  could  see  the  feather  of  Pedro's  arrow 
sticking  out  of  the  ribs  of  one  of  them — and 
one  with  its  back  broken. 

1  had  hoped  that  the  strange  thunder  of  the 
rifles  would  send  them  flying — but  no.  They 
all  stopped  again  for  a  moment,  and  then,  mad- 
dened seemingly  at  the  sight  of  the  broken- 
backed  wolf  dragging  itself  about  and  screeching 
with  pain — poor  beast — they  all  fell  upon  the 
unfortunate  creature  and  worried  it  to  death. 
Then,  with  yells  of  rage,  on  they  came  again. 

The  pause  had  given  us  time  to  re-load.  Dick 
and  Pedro,  quicker  than  I,  fired  a  second  shot, 
and  once  more  two  wolves  fell  writhing  among 
the  stones.  The  next  moment  we  were  sur- 
rounded, and  for  a  minute  or  two  after  that  I 
276 


The   Bridge  277 

was  too  much  engaged  myself  to  note  what  the 
others  were  doing, 

A  gaunt,  long-legged  wolf  sprang  up  on  the 
rock  within  three  feet  of  me.  I  fired  my  rifle 
into  his  chest.  Another,  close  beside  him,  was 
within  an  ace  of  scrambling  up  when  I  hit  him 
across  the  side  of  his  head  a  fearful  crack  with 
the  empty  rifle-barrel  and  knocked  him  off* again. 
Then,  seeing  a  third  with  his  feet  on  top  of  the 
rock,  his  head  thrown  back  in  his  straining 
efforts  to  get  up,  I  sprang  to  that  side,  kicked 
the  beast  under  his  chin  and  knocked  him  down. 

Meanwhile  my  companions  had  been  similarly 
engaged  and  similarly  successful.  Pedro  in  par- 
ticular, having  dropped  his  bow  and  taken  in 
one  hand  the  short-handled  ax  he  always  carried 
with  him,  while  in  the  other  he  held  his  big 
sheath-knife,  had  laid  about  him  to  such  effect 
that  he  had  put  four  of  the  enemy  out  of  the 
fight — two  of  them  permanently. 

Dick  was  the  only  one  who  had  received  any 
damage,  and  that  was  to  his  clothes  and  not  to 
himself.  His  rifle  being  empty,  he  had  used  it 
to  push  back  the  wolves  as  they  jumped  up. 
In  doing  so  he  had  stepped  too  near  the  edge 
of  the  rock,  and  one  of  the  watchful  beasts, 
springing  up  at  that  moment,  had  caught  the 


278  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

leg  of  his  trousers  with  its  teeth,  tearing  it  from 
end  to  end  and  coming  dangerously  near  to 
pulling  my  partner  down.  Pedro,  however, 
quick  as  a  flash,  had  delivered  a  back-handed 
"  swipe  "  with  his  ax  at  the  wolf's  neck,  nearly 
cutting  off"  its  head,  and  Dick  was  saved.  It 
was  an  unpleasantly  close  thing,  though. 

It  was  a  short,  sharp  tussle,  and  at  the  end  of 
it  nine  of  the  sixteen  wolves  lay  scattered  about 
the  bed  of  the  ravine,  dead  or  helpless.  This 
seemed  to  take  the  fight  out  of  the  remaining 
seven — as  well  it  might — who  retreated  down 
the  arroyo,  turning  at  the  corner  and  looking 
back  at  us  with  their  lips  drawn  up  and  their 
teeth  showing,  seeming  to  convey  a  threat,  as 
though  they  would  say,  "  Your  turn  this  time^ 
but  just  you  wait  a  bit." 

Such  unexpected  fierceness  and  such  determi- 
nation on  the  part  of  the  wolves — by  daylight, 
too — scared  me  rather ;  Dick  also,  I  noted, 
looked  pretty  sober,  as,  turning  to  the  Mexican, 
he  said  : 

"  You  were  right,  Pedro :  these  wolves  are 
dangerous — a  good  deal  more  so  than  I  had 
supposed.  Our  chances  would  have  been  pretty 
slim  if  we  hadn't  had  this  rock  so  handy.  If 
this  sort  of  thing  is  going  to  happen  at  any 


The  Bridge  279 

time,  day  or  night,  it  will  add  very  much  to 
the  difficulty  of  the  work  up  here.  We  shall 
have  to  be  continuously  on  the  lookout ;  it 
won't  do  to  separate ;  and  wherever  we  are  at 
work,  we  shall  have  to  prepare  a  place  of  refuge 
near  at  hand.  I  don't  like  it.  I've  seen  wolves 
by  the  hundred,  but  I  never  saw  any  before  so 
savage  and  so  persistent  as  these.  I  tell  you,  I 
don't  half  like  it." 

"  And  I  don't  either,"  said  I,  glad  to  find  that 
I  was  not  the  only  one  to  feel  uneasy.  "  Did 
you  notice,  Dick,  how  thin  they  all  were  ?  I've 
often  heard  the  expression,  '  gaunt  as  a  wolf,' 
and  now  I  know  what  it  means.  They  seemed 
half-starved." 

"  That  is  it,  seiior,"  remarked  Pedro.  "  The 
wolves  up  here  are  very  many — too  many  for 
the  space  they  have.  Here  they  are,  the  canons 
all  round  them,  they  cannot  get  away.  All  the 
time  they  are  half-starved,  all  the  time  they  hunt 
for  food,  all  the  time  they  are  dangerous.  Often 
in  winter  they  eat  each  other.  It  is  well  if  we 
move  away  from  here.  Pretty  soon  there  will 
come  another  pack  to  eat  up  these  dead  ones." 

"  Let  us  get  out,  then  !  "  I  cried.  "  I've  had 
enough  of  them  for  one  day  !  " 

The   others    were   quite   ready   to  move,  so, 


28o  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

jumping  down  from  our  fortress  we  started  along 
the  ravine  again,  this  time  keeping  our  ears 
wide  open  for  suspicious  sounds,  and  feeling  a 
good  deal  relieved  when,  on  the  edge  of  the  lake, 
we  sat  down  to  our  lunch  with  an  old  low- 
branching  pine  tree  close  by,  up  which  we  could 
go  in  a  jiffy  if  need  be. 

But  though  the  presence  of  so  man}'^  wolves 
on  the  "  island "  was  something  we  had  not 
anticipated,  something,  moreover,  which  was 
likely  to  add  very  much  to  the  difficulty  of  our 
undertaking,  we  did  not  for  a  moment  con- 
template its  abandonment.  It  meant  the  use  of 
great  caution  in  going  about  the  work,  but  as  to 
backing  out,  I  do  not  think  the  idea  so  much  as 
occurred  to  either  of  us. 

As  soon  as  we  had  sat  down  to  our  lunch, 
therefore,  we  began  the  discussion  of  the  best 
method  of  procedure. 

"  It  is  a  big  undertaking,  Dick,"  said  I,  "  a 
very  big  undertaking ;  but  it  looks  like  a 
straightforward  piece  of  work  ;  and  it  seems  to 
me  that  what  has  been  done  once  can  certainly 
be  done  again,  especially  as  we  have  our  line  al- 
ready laid  out  for  us.     Don't  j^ou  think  so  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  certainl}^  think  so,"  replied  my  part- 
ner.    "  What  those  Pueblos  accomplished  with 


The   Bridge  281 

their  poor  implements,  we  can  surely  do  again 
with  our  superior  tools.  And  some  of  it,  at 
least,  we  can  do  ourselves,  I  believe — with  our 
own  hands,  I  mean.  When  it  comes  to  digging 
out  the  ditch  on  the  other  side  of  the  canon,  it 
will  pay  us  to  hire  Mexicans  ;  but  the  preliminary 
work  of  bringing  the  water  down  to  the  canon, 
and,  perhaps,  the  building  of  the  flume,  I  believe 
we  can  do  ourselves." 

"  The  building  of  the  flume,"  said  I,  "  is  likely 
to  be  a  pretty  big  job  by  itself.  We  can  un- 
doubtedly get  the  water  down  that  far — that  is 
simple — but  the  building  of  the  flume  is  quite 
another  thing.  A  small  flume  won't  do  ;  it  has 
to  be  a  big,  strong,  solid  structure,  and  it  strikes 
me  that  the  very  first  thing  to  l^e  done — the  la}^- 
ing  of  the  two  big  stringers  across  the  caiion — is 
going  to  take  us  all  we  know,  and  a  trifle  over. 
In  fact,  I  don't  see  myself  how  we  are  to  do  it." 

"  I  think  I  do,"  rejoined  my  partner  ;  "  but 
we  shall  need  tools  for  the  purpose.  We  can't 
build  a  big,  solid  flume  with  one  pick,  one 
shovel  and  two  axes." 

"  No,  we  certainly  can't,"  I  replied. 

"  We  shall  need,  too,  a  large  amount  of 
lumber,"  continued  Dick,  "  heavy  pieces,  besides 
boards  for  floor  and  sides — two  inch  planks,  at 


282  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

least — three  inch  would  be  better.  We  shall 
need  several  thousand  feet  altogether." 

"  Well  ?  " 

"  Well,  there  is  no  lumber  to  be  had  nearer 
than  Mosby,  and  to  bring  it  from  Mosby  is  out 
of  the  question.  In  the  first  place  it  would  cost 
too  much  ;  and  in  the  second  place  it  is  too  far 
to  pack  it  on  mule-back." 

I  nodded.  "  You  mean  we  shall  have  to  cut 
it  out  ourselves,  here  on  the  spot." 

"  Yes  ;  and  to  do  that  we  shall  need  a  long, 
two-handled  rip-saw,  and  a  saw-pit  to  work  in. 
Besides  this,  the  other  tools  we  shall  require,  as 
far  as  I  can  think  of  them  on  the  spur  of  the 
moment,  are  two  or  three  pulley-blocks  for  plac- 
ing the  big  timbers,  hammers,  nails,  cross-cut 
saws  and  a  big  auger  ;  for  I  propose  that  we  pin 
the  heavy  parts  together  with  wooden  pins  :  it 
will  save  the  carriage  on  spikes,  and  be  just  as 
good,  if  not  better.  Don't  you  think  so, 
Pedro  ?  " 

Pedro  approved  of  the  idea,  and  we  were 
about  to  continue  the  discussion,  when  there 
broke  out  a  great  yelling  and  snarling  of  wolves 
up  the  arroyo.  Dick  and  I  sprang  to  our  feet, 
and  instinctively  cast  an  eye  up  into  the  ad- 
jacent tree  in  search  of  a  convenient  limb  ;  but 


The  Bridge  283 

Pedro,  unconcernedly  continuing  his  meal,  re- 
marked : 

"  It  is  only  that  they  eat  the  dead  ones." 

"  Well,  they're  a  deal  too  close  to  be  pleas- 
ant," said  Dick.  "  I  vote  we  move  on  down 
to  the  canon  and  get  a  little  further  away  from 
them." 

As  I  was  heartily  of  the  same  opinion,  we 
moved  down  accordingly,  and  there  on  the 
brink  of  the  gorge  surveyed  the  scene  of  our 
future  labors. 

"  Look  here,"  said  Dick.  "  Here's  where  we 
shall  have  to  cut  our  timbers — on  this  side. 
See  what  a  splendid  supply  there  is  right  at 
hand." 

He  pointed  to  a  scar  on  the  mountain  close 
by  where  a  landslide  had  brought  down  scores 
of  trees  of  all  sizes. 

"When  did  that  come  down,  Pedro?"  he 
asked. 

"  Only  last  spring,  seiior,"  replied  the  Mex- 
ican.    "  And  the  trees  are  sound  and  good." 

"  Mighty  lucky  for  us,"  continued  my  partner; 
"  for,  you  see,  on  the  other  side  trees  are  scarce 
and  they  average  rather  small.  But  on  this 
side,  there  are  not  only  seasoned  trees  of  all 
sizes   in  abundance,  but  it  will  be  a  down-hill 


284  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

pull  to  get  them  into  place — a  big  item  by  itself. 
Besides  that,  just  back  here  on  this  little  level 
spot  we  can  dig  our  saw-pit  very  conveniently. 
The  only  question  to  my  mind  is,  whether  we 
should  not  move  our  camp  over  to  this  side.  If 
it  were  not  for  the  wolves  I  should  certainly 
say,  '  Yes  ' ;  but  as  it  is,  I  feel  rather  doubtful. 
The  nearest  water  is  up  there  at  the  lake,  and 
if  we  did  move  over  to  this  side  that  is  where  we 
should  have  to  make  our  camp." 

"  It's  a  long  way  up  to  the  lake,  Dick,"  said 
I,  "  and  it  might  be  dangerous  going  to  and 
from  our  work — especially  going  back  in  the 
evening.  In  fact,  it  might  easily  happen  that 
we  couldn't  get  back  at  all." 

"  That's  what  I  was  thinking  of,"  replied  my 
partner. 

"  On  the  other  hand,"  I  continued,  "  if  we 
keep  our  present  camp,  it  will  be  very  incon- 
venient, and  will  waste  a  great  deal  of  time,  to 
come  to  our  work  every  day  by  way  of  those 
stone  steps  we  climbed  this  morning." 

"  Yes,  that's  it.  But  there's  yet  another  way 
which,  I  think,  would  get  us  over  both  difficul- 
ties ;  one  which  would  combine  all  the  advan- 
tages and  at  the  same  time  do  away  with  the 
danger — or,   to  say  the  least,  the  inconvenience 


The  Bridge  285 

— of  being  harried  by  the  wolves,  and  that  is  to 
build  a  bridge  here.  Then,  if  we  move  our 
camp  to  that  little  '  park  '  just  below  here,  where 
we  found  that  spring  yesterday,  it  would  only 
take  us  five  minutes  in  the  morning  to  come 
up  here,  cross  the  bridge  and  go  to  work.  How 
does  that  strike  you?  What  do  you  think, 
Pedro?" 

"  It  is  good,"  replied  Pedro.  "  First  thing  of 
everything  a  bridge  ;  and  that  is  easy.  We 
make  it  to-day  before  the  sun  set." 

**  We  do,  do  we  ? "  cried  Dick,  laughing. 
"  That  will  be  pretty  expeditious ;  but  if  you 
think  you  know  how,  Pedro,  go  ahead  and  we'll 
follow." 

Pedro's  eye  twinkled.  "  The  seiior  means 
it  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Dick. 

"  Bueno,''  said  Pedro,  briefly. 

There  was  a  little  pine  tree  growing  just  on 
the  brink  of  the  chasm,  and  without  another 
word  the  Mexican  drew  his  ax  from  his  belt, 
stepped  up  to  the  tree  and  cut  it  off  about  four 
feet  from  the  ground,  allowing  the  top  to  fall 
from  the  precipice  into  the  stream  below. 

"What's  that  for,  Pedro?"  I  asked,  in  sur- 
prise. 


286  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

Pedro  grinned.  "  I  show  you  pretty  quick," 
said  he.  "  Come,  now.  We  go  back  to  the 
other  side." 

Though  we  could  not  fathom  his  plan,  having 
voluntarily  made  him  captain  for  the  time  being 
we  could  not  do  less  than  obey  orders  ;  so  away 
we  went  at  a  brisk  walk  back  to  the  crack  in 
the  wall,  down  the  steps  in  the  rock,  along  the 
bank  of  the  creek  to  camp — where  we  picked 
up  our  own  ax — then  up  the  ledge  to  the  point  op- 
posite the  one  we  had  just  left — a  two-mile  walk 
to  accomplish  thirty  feet. 

Here,  the  first  thing  Pedro  did  was  to  take 
his  lariat,  a  beautifully-made  rawhide  rope 
strong  enough  to  hold  a  thousand-pound  steer, 
tie  a  stone  to  one  end  and  throw  the  stone 
across  the  canon.  I  could  not  think  what  he 
was  doing  it  for,  until  I  saw  that  he  was 
measuring  the  width.  We  made  it  about 
twenty-seven  feet,  its  remarkable  narrowness 
being  accounted  for  by  the  great  overhang  of  the 
cliff  on  our  side. 

"  Now,"  said  Pedro,  "  we  go  up  the  mountain 
here  a  little  way  and  cut  some  poles.  It  is  just 
close  by  up  here." 

We  soon  found  the  place,  and  there  we  cut 
off  three  poles  about  thirty  feet  long  and  eight 


"l  COULD   NOT  THINK  V/HAT  HE  WAS   DOING  IT   FOR. 


The  Bridge  287 

inches  thick  at  the  small  end.  These  we  trimmed 
down  to  about  the  same  thickness  at  the  butt, 
and  having  roughly  squared  them,  we  dragged 
them  down  to  the  edge  of  the  gorge. 

So  far  it  had  been  a  simple  proceeding,  but 
what  puzzled  me  was  how  Pedro  proposed  to 
lay  these  sticks  across  the  canon.  This,  too,  as 
it  turned  out,  proved  to  be  a  simple  matter,  but 
its  first  step  was  one  to  make  your  hair  stand 
on  end  to  look  at,  nevertheless. 

It  was  now  we  found  out  why  Pedro  had  cut 
off  the  little  tree  on  the  other  side.  Taking  his 
lariat,  he  swung  the  loop  above  his  head  a  time 
or  two  and  cast  it  across  the  gorge.  The  loop 
settled  over  the  tree-stump,  when  the  Mexican 
pulled  it  tight  and  then  proceeded  with  great 
care  to  tie  the  other  end  of  the  rope  to  a  tree 
which  stood  very  convenient  on  our  side. 

What  was  he  up  to  ? 

Dick  and  I  stood  watching  him  in  silence, 
when  he  stepped  to  the  edge  of  the  cliff,  took 
hold  of  the  rope  with  both  hands,  and  swung 
himself  off  into  space  ! 

My  !  It  gave  me  cold  shivers  all  down  my 
back  to  see  him  hanging  there  with  nothing  but 
that  thread  of  a  rope  to  prevent  his  falling  on 
the  rocks  a  thousand  feet  below  ! 


288  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

Motionless  and  breathless,  Dick  and  I  watched 
him  as  he  went  swinging  across,  hand  over  hand 
— the  rope  sagging  in  the  middle  in  an  alarm- 
ing manner — and  profound  was  our  relief  when 
he  drew  himself  up  and  stepped  safely  upon  the 
opposite  wall. 

But  though  this  tight-rope  performance  had 
given  us  palpitation  of  the  heart,  Pedro  him- 
self appeared  to  be  absolutely  unaffected.  With 
perfect  calmness  and  unconcern,  he  turned 
round  and  said  in  the  most  matter-of-fact 
tone  : 

"  Now  undo  the  rope  and  tie  it  to  the  end  of 
one  of  those  poles." 

As  Pedro  evidently  regarded  his  feat  of 
gymnastics  as  nothing  out  of  the  common,  we 
affected  to  look  upon  it  in  the  same  light,  so, 
following  his  directions,  we  tied  the  rope  to  one 
of  the  poles,  when  the  Mexican  began  pulling  it 
toward  him,  we  pushing  at  the  other  end. 
Presently  the  pole  was  so  far  over  the  edge  that 
it  began  to  teeter,  when  Pedro  called  to  us  to  go 
slowly.  Then,  while  we  pried  it  forward  inch 
by  inch,  Pedro  retreated  backward  up  the  gully 
until  the  end  of  the  pole  bumped  against  the 
wall  on  his  side,  when  he  came  forward,  keep- 
ing the  rope  taut  all  the  time,  lifted  the  pole 


The  Bridge  289 

and  set  its  end  on  the  rocks.     The  first  beam  of 
our  bridge  was  laid. 

Tlie  other  two  poles  we  sent  across  by  the 
same  process,  and  then,  scraping  a  bed  for  them 
in  the  sand  and  gravel,  we  laid  them  side  by 
side,  two  with  their  butt-ends  on  our  side,  the 
other — the  middle  one — reversed. 

Pedro  then  took  from  his  pocket  a  long  strip 
of  deer-hide  with  which  he  bound  the  three 
poles  together,  when  we,  at  his  request,  having 
once  more  tied  the  rope  to  the  tree,  he  laid  his 
hand  upon  it,  using  it  as  a  hand-rail,  and 
walked  across  to  our  side,  where  with  a  second 
buckskin  thong  he  bound  the  poles  together  at 
that  end. 

Next  he  walked  back  to  the  middle  of  the 
bridge,  and  holding  the  rope  with  both  hands, 
jumped  up  and  down  upon  the  poles,  to  make 
sure  of  their  solidity,  and  finding  them  all 
right,  he  went  to  the  far  end,  loosened  the  loop 
from  the  tree-stump,  threw  it  across  to  us,  and 
then,  without  any  hand-rail  this  time,  walked 
back  across  the  flimsy-looking  bridge  to  our  side ! 

What  a  head  the  man  must  have  had  !  The 
bridge  at  its  widest  did  not  measure  thirty  inches, 
and  yet  the  Mexican — barefooted,  to  be  sure — 
walked  erect  across  that  fearful  chasm  without 


290  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

a  thought  of  turning  dizzy.  I  suppose  he  was 
born  without  nerves,  and  had  never  cultivated 
any,  as  we  more  civilized  people  do  by  our 
habits  of  life.  For  years  he  had  lived  out-of- 
doors,  always  at  exercise,  used  to  climbing  in 
all  sorts  of  dangerous  places,  and  what  perhaps 
may  have  counted  for  as  much  as  anything  else, 
he  was  one  of  the  few  Mexicans  I  have  known 
who  abjured  that  habit  so  common  among  his 
people — the  habit  of  smoking  cigarettes. 

I  know  very  well  that  I,  though  I  did  not 
smoke  cigarettes  either,  and  though  I  thought 
myself  pretty  clear-headed,  would  never  have 
dared  such  a  thing,  unless  under  pressure  of 
great  and  imminent  danger. 

"  What  did  you  untie  the  rope  for,  Pedro?  " 
I  asked.     "  Why  not  leave  it  for  a  hand-rail?  " 

"  Because  the  wolves  will  eat  it,"  replied  Pedro. 
"  We  will  bring  one  of  your  hempen  ropes  and 
tie  there  :  the  wolves  will  not  trouble  that." 

"  By  the  way,  Pedro  !  "  cried  Dick.  "  How 
about  those  wolves  ?  Won't  they  come  across 
the  bridge?" 

"  I  think  not,"  the  Mexican  answered. 
"  They  are  wary  and  suspicious — it  is  the 
nature  of  a  wolf — and  I  think  they  will  fear  to 
venture." 


The  Bridge  291 

At  that  moment  the  sun  set  behind  the  peak, 
and  as  thougli  its  setting  had  been  a  signal, 
there  arose  in  three  or  four  different  directions 
the  howls  of  wolves.  They  were  coming  out  for 
their  nightly  hunt. 

"  Senores,"  said  Pedro,  "  we  will  see  very  soon 
if  the  wolves  will  cross  the  bridge.  It  will  not 
be  long  before  they  find  our  trail  and  then  they 
will  come  down  here.  Let  us  hide  us  and  watch. 
Up  here,  behind  these  rocks,  is  a  good  place." 

A  little  way  up  the  bank,  only  a  few  steps 
back  from  the  edge  of  the  gorge,  we  lay  down 
and  waited.  Presently,  from  the  direction  of  the 
lake,  there  suddenly  arose  a  joyous  chorus  of 
yelps,  which  proclaimed  that  our  trail  had  been 
discovered.  And  not  to  us  only  was  the  "  find  " 
proclaimed.  A  second  pack,  hearing  the  call, 
hastened  to  join  the  hunt,  hoping  for  a  share  in 
the  spoil ;  we  caught  a  glimpse  of  them  as  they 
came  racing  down  one  of  the  slopes  which 
bordered  the  gully.  The  swelling  clamor  drew 
nearer  and  nearer,  and  pretty  soon,  with  a  rush 
of  pattering  feet,  the  wolves  appeared  ;  there  must 
have  been  thirty  of  them. 

Down  to  the  edge  of  the  canon  they  came, 
and  there  they  drew  up.  One  of  them,  a  big, 
gray  old  fellow,  the  leader  of  one  of  the  packs. 


292  The  Trail  of  the   Badger 

probably,  advanced  to  the  end  of  the  bridge, 
sniffed  at  it  and  drew  hastily  back.  One  after 
another,  other  wolves  came  forward,  sniffed  and 
withdrew.  It  was  evident  that  Pedro  had 
guessed  right :  they  dared  not  cross. 

At  this  balking  of  their  hopes  they  set  up  a 
howl  of  disappointment.  Poor  things  !  I  felt 
quite  sorry  for  them.  They  were  so  hungry ; 
and  yet  they  dared  not  cross.  Nevertheless, 
though  I  might  feel  sorry  for  them,  I  was  more 
than  glad  that  they  feared  to  venture,  for  against 
such  a  pack  as  that  our  chances  would  have  been 
small  indeed. 

"  Senores,"  whispered  Pedro,  "  I  try  them  yet 
a  little  more.  It  is  quite  safe.  Stay  you  here 
and  watch." 

With  that,  taking  his  ax  in  his  hand,  he  rose 
up  in  full  view  of  the  pack  and  walked  down  to 
the  end  of  the  bridge. 

Such  an  uproar  as  broke  forth  I  never  heard. 
Many  of  the  wolves  ran  up  the  banks  on  either 
side  of  the  gully  in  order  to  get  a  sight  of 
Pedro,  and  every  one  of  them,  those  in  front, 
those  behind  and  those  on  the  sides,  lifted  their 
heads  and  yelled  at  the  man  calmly  standing 
there,  scarce  ten  steps  away. 

But  they  dared  not  cross. 


The   Bridge  293 

One  of  them,  indeed,  crowded  forward  against 
his  will  by  those  behind,  was  pushed  out  on  to 
the  bridge  a  little  way,  when,  striving  to  get  back, 
his  hind  feet  slipped  off.  I  thought  he  was 
gone,  but  by  desperate  scratching  he  succeeded 
in  saving  himself,  when,  rendered  crazy  by  fright 
and  rage  he  attacked  the  nearest  wolves,  fought 
his  way  through  to  the  rear  and  fled  straight 
away  up  the  gully. 

This  seemed  to  settle  the  matter.  The  whole 
pack,  as  though  struck  with  panic,  turned  and 
pursued  him.  In  ten  seconds  not  one  of  them 
was  to  be  seen. 

As  Dick  and  I  rose  up  from  our  hiding-place, 
Pedro  came  back  to  us. 

"  You  see,"  said  he,  "  we  are  quite  safe." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Dick.  *'  It  is  evident  we  have 
nothing  to  fear  from  them  on  this  side — and  I'm 
mighty  glad  of  it.  Well,  let  us  get  down  to 
camp.  I  think  we've  done  a  pretty  good  day's 
work,  taking  it  all  round,  and  I  shall  be  glad 
of  a  good  supper  and  a  good  rest." 

"  So  shall  I,"  was  my  response.  "  And  as  to 
our  day's  work,  Dick,  I'm  much  mistaken  if  it 
isn't  by  long  odds  the  most  important  one  to 
us  that  either  you  or  I  ever  put  in." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
The  Big  Flume 

AS  the  first  step  in  restoring  the  old  Pueblo 
irrigation  system,  we  moved  camp  next 
morning  as  arranged.  Packing  our  scanty  be- 
longings upon  old  Fritz,  we  rode  up  the  ledge, 
past  the  site  of  the  proposed  flume,  and  down 
the  mountain  a  short  distance  to  a  point  be- 
tween two  of  the  big  claw-like  spurs,  where,  two 
days  before,  in  riding  down  to  speak  to  Galvez, 
we  had  come  across  a  little  spring  which  would 
furnish  water  enough  for  ourselves  and  our 
animals. 

Thence,  walking  back  to  the  bridge,  taking 
with  us,  besides  our  rifles,  the  two  axes  and  one 
of  our  long  picket-ropes,  Pedro  flrst  tied  the 
latter  to  the  tree  on  our  side,  and  then,  taking 
the  other  end  in  his  hand,  he  walked  across  and 
fastened  it  to  the  stump  on  the  far  side. 

It  was  now  our  turn  to  cross,  and  very  little 

did  either  of  us  relish  the  idea.     Dick,  who  had 

volunteered  to  go  first,  took  hold  of  the  rope, 

set  one  foot  on  the  bridge,  and  then — he  could 

294 


The   Big   Flume  295 

not  resist  it — did  just  what  he  ought  not  to 
have  done  : — looked  down.  The  inevitable  con- 
sequence was  that  he  took  his  foot  off  again  and 
retreated  a  few  steps. 

"  My  word,  Frank  I  "  said  he.  "  You  may 
laugh  if  you  like,  but  Fll  be  shot  if  Fm  going 
to  walk  across  that  place.  Crawling's  good 
enough  for  me." 

So  saying,  he  again  approached  the  bridge, 
and  going  down  on  his  hands  and  knees, 
crawled  carefully  over. 

For  myself,  I  found  it  equally  impossible  to 
screw  up  my  courage  far  enough  to  attempt  the 
passage  on  foot.  In  fact,  even  crawling  seemed 
too  risky,  so  I  just  sat  myself  astride  of  the 
three  poles  and  ''  humped  "  myself  along  with 
my  hands  to  the  other  side,  where  the  grinning 
Pedro  gave  me  a  hand  to  help  me  to  my  feet 
again. 

It  was  ignominious,  perhaps,  to  be  thus  out- 
done by  an  ignorant,  semi-savage  Mexican  ;  but, 
as  Dick  said,  "  You  may  laugh  if  you  like  "  :  I 
was  not  going  to  break  my  neck  just  to  prove 
that  I  was  not  afraid — when  I  was. 

At  that  hour  in  the  morning  the  wolves,  I 
suppose,  were  all  asleep.  At  any  rate  we  heard 
nothing  of  them.     But  knowing  very  well  that 


296  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

they  might  turn  up  again  at  any  moment,  we 
wasted  no  time  in  starting  our  first  piece  of 
work,  namely,  preparing  a  place  of  refuge 
against  them. 

Choosing  a  spot  on  the  level  near  the  point 
where  we  expected  to  dig  our  saw-pit,  we  cut  a 
number  of  good,  heavy  logs,  with  which,  after 
carefully  notching  and  fitting  them,  we  erected 
a  pen,  seven  feet  high  and  about  ten  feet  square 
inside.  It  was  the  plainest  kind  of  a  structure  : 
merely  four  walls,  without  even  a  doorway  ;  but 
as  it  was  not  chinked  it  would  be  a  simple 
matter  for  us  to  clamber  up  and  get  inside ; 
whereas,  for  a  wolf  to  do  the  same — with  safety 
— would  be  far  from  simple  with  us  waiting  in 
there  to  crack  him  on  the  head  with  an  ax  as 
soon  as  he  showed  it  above  the  top  log. 

It  may  be  that  we  were  unnecessarily  cautious 
in  providing  this  refuge.  If  the  wolves  should 
molest  us — a  contingency  prett}^  sure  to  occur 
some  time  or  other — it  was  probable  that  we 
should  hear  them  coming  in  time  to  retreat  by 
the  bridge,  which  was  not  more  than  a  hundred 
yards  distant.  But  on  the  other  hand,  if  they 
should  not  give  us  timely  notice  of  their  ap- 
proach, it  might  be  very  awkward,  not  to  say 
dangerous — for  Dick  and  me,  at  least. 


The   Big   Flume  297 

"  For  Pedro  it  might  be  all  right,"  was  my 
partner's  comment,  "  but  for  us — no,  thank  you. 
I  have  no  desire  to  be  hustled  across  that  bridge 
in  a  hurry.  Just  imagine  how  it  would  paralyze 
you  to  try  to  crawl  across  those  poles,  knowing 
that  there  was  a  wolf  standing  at  the  far  end 
trying  to  make  up  his  mind  to  follow  you. 
No,  thank  you ;  not  for  me.  We'll  have  a 
refuge  here  on  *  dry  land.'  " 

It  was  a  long  day's  work,  the  building  of  this 
pen,  for  we  were  careful  to  make  it  strong  and 
solid  ;  indeed,  we  had  not  yet  quite  finished  it, 
when,  about  four  in  the  afternoon,  we  heard  the 
first  faint  whimperings  of  the  wolves,  a  long  way 
off  somewhere.  So,  fearing  they  might  come 
down  upon  us  before  we  were  quite  ready  for 
them,  we  postponed  the  completion  of  the  job 
until  the  morrow,  and  re-crossing  the  bridge  in 
the  same  order  and  the  same  manner  as  before, 
we  went  back  to  camp,  where  we  spent  the  re- 
maining hours  of  daylight  in  making  things 
comfortable  for  a  lengthened  stay. 

To  this  end  we  built  a  little  three-sided  shelter 
of  logs  about  four  feet  high,  the  side  to  the  east, 
facing  down  the  mountain,  being  left  open. 
This  we  roofed  with  a  wagon-sheet  we  had 
brought  with  us  in  place  of  a  tent,  dug  a  trench 


298  The  Trail  of  the   Badger 

all  round  it  to  drain  off  the  rain-water,  covered 
the  floor  with  a  thick  mat  of  pine-boughs,  and 
there  we  were,  prepared  for  a  residence  of  six 
months  or  more,  if  necessary. 

"  Now,  Frank,"  said  my  partner,  as  we  sat  by 
the  fire  that  evening,  "  we  have  about  got  to  a 
point  where  we  have  to  have  tools.  One  of  us 
has  got  to  go  to  Mosby  to  get  them,  while  the 
other  stays  here  with  Pedro.  The  question  is, 
which  shall  go.  Take  your  choice.  I'll  stay  or 
go,  just  as  you  like." 

"Then  I  think  you  had  better  go,  Dick,"  I 
replied.  "You  know  better  than  I  do  what 
tools  we  shall  need  ;  you  are  far  more  handy  at 
packing  a  mule  than  I  am  ;  and  besides  all  that, 
it  will  give  you  an  opportunity  to  see  the  pro- 
fessor." 

"  Thanks,  old  chap,"  said  Dick,  heartily. 
"  That  is  a  consideration.  Yes,  I  shall  be  glad 
to  go,  if  you  don't  mind  staying  here  with  Pedro." 

"  Not  a  bit,"  I  replied.  "  He's  an  interesting 
companion  ;  and  if  one  needed  a  protector  it 
would  be  hard  to  find  a  better  one.  No  ;  I'll 
stay.     I  don't  at  all  mind  it." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Dick.  "  Then  I  think  I'll 
dig  out  the  first  thing  in  the  morning.  It  will 
take  me,  I  expect,  about  six  days  :   two  days 


The  Big   Flume  299 

each  way  and  perhaps  two  days  in  Mosby.  It 
depends  on  whether  I  can  get  the  tools  there 
that  I  want." 

"  I  should  think  you  could,"  said  I,  "  unless 
it  is  the  big  rip-saw." 

•*  I  don't  think  there'll  be  any  trouble  about 
that,"  replied  my  partner.  "  Before  the  saw- 
mill came  in,  two  or  three  of  the  mines  used  to 
cut  their  own  big  timbers  by  hand,  and  I've  no 
doubt  the  old  saws  are  lying  around  somewhere 
still.  If  they  are,  I'm  pretty  sure  I  can  get  one 
for  next-to-nothing,  for,  of  course,  they  are  never 
used  now." 

"There's  one  thing,  Dick,"  said  I,  after  a 
thoughtful  pause,  **  which  makes  me  feel  a  little 
doubtful  about  your  going  alone,  and  that  is  lest 
Galvez  should  interfere  with  you.  If  he  caught 
sight  of  you,  either  going  or  returning,  he  might 
make  trouble." 

"  He  might,"  replied  Dick.  "  Though  I  don't 
much  think  he  is  likely  to  trouble  you  or  me. 
Anyhow,  when  I  leave  to-morrow,  you  can  take 
the  glass  and  just  keep  watch  on  the  village  for 
an  hour  or  so  to  see  that  he  doesn't  make  any 
attempt  to  cut  me  off.  If  he  should,  you  can 
raise  a  big  smoke  here  to  warn  me  and  ride 
down  to  help." 


300  The  Trail  of  the   Badger 

"  All  right.  I  will.  But  how  about  when 
you  come  back  ?  " 

"  Why,  I'll  arrange  to  leave  The  Foolscap,  as 
we  did  before,  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
which  would  bring  me  about  half  way  across 
the  valley  by  sunrise.  On  the  sixth  morning, 
and  every  morning  after  till  I  turn  up,  you  can 
take  the  field-glass  and  look  out  for  me.  From 
this  elevation  3^ou  would  be  able  to  see  me  long 
before  Galvez  could,  and  then  you  might  ride 
down  to  meet  me." 

"  That's  a  good  idea.     Yes  ;  Fll  do  that." 

Our  camp  was  so  placed  that  we  could  not 
only  see  the  whole  stretch  of  the  valley  between 
us  and  The  Foolscap,  but  also  the  village  and 
the  country  beyond  it  for  many  miles,  and  for 
about  two  hours  after  Dick's  departure  I  sat 
there  with  the  glass  in  my  hand  watching  his 
retreating  figure,  and  more  especiall}-  watching 
the  village.  For,  tliough  in  reality  I  had  little 
fear  that  Galvez  would  attempt  to  play  any 
tricks  on  him,  particularly  after  Dick's  exhibi- 
tion of  rifle-shooting,  I  was  not  going  to  take 
any  avoidable  chances. 

At  the  end  of  that  time,  however,  I  rose  up, 
put  awa}^  the  glass,  and  in  company  with  Pedro 
went  over  to  the  other  side  of  the  canon,  where 


The  Big   Flume  301 

we  first  finished  up  the  building  of  the  pen,  and 
then,  picking  out  a  big,  straight  tree  suitable  for 
a  stringer,  1  went  to  work  upon  it,  trimming  off 
the  branches,  while  Pedro  with  the  shovel  began 
the  task  of  digging  out  the  saw-pit. 

That  evening,  and  each  succeeding  evening, 
just  before  the  sun  set,  we  stopped  work  and  re- 
treated across  the  bridge  in  order  to  avoid  any 
trouble  with  the  wolves,  which,  as  a  rule,  did 
not  come  out  in  force  until  about  that  hour. 
Once  only  during  the  time  that  Pedro  and  I 
were  at  work  there  by  ourselves  did  any  of 
them  venture  on  an  attack.  It  was  a  pack  of 
about  a  dozen  which  came  down  on  us  one 
evening  just  before  quitting-time,  but  as  we 
heard  them  coming,  we  retired  into  the  pen, 
whence  I  shot  one  of  them  before  they  had  found 
out  where  we  were ;  whereupon  the  rest  bolted. 

I  think  the  survivors  of  the  fight  in  Wolf 
Arroyo — as  we  had  named  the  ravine  where  we 
had  had  our  battle — must  have  imparted  to  all 
the  others  the  intelligence  that  we  were  danger- 
ous creatures  to  deal  with,  for  the  wolves  in 
general  were  certainly  much  less  venturesome 
than  they  had  been  that  first  day.  At  night, 
though,  they  came  out  in  droves,  and  continuous 
were  the  bowlings,  especially  when  the  wind  was 


302  The  Trail   of  the   Badger 

south  and  they  could  smell  us  and  our  animals 
only  a  hundred  yards  away  on  the  other  side  of 
the  canon. 

At  sunrise  on  the  sixth  day,  and  again  on  the 
seventh,  I  searched  the  valley  with  the  glass  to 
see  if  Dick  was  within  sight,  but  it  was  not  until 
the  morning  of  the  eighth  day  that  I  saw  him 
and  old  Fritz  coming  along,  not  more  than  five 
miles  away.  He  must  have  made  a  very  early 
start. 

Jumping  on  my  pony,  I  rode  to  meet  him, 
while  Pedro  remained  behind  to  watch  the 
village. 

I  was  very  glad  to  see  my  partner  safely  back 
again,  and  especially  pleased  to  hear  the  news 
he  brought. 

The  professor,  he  told  me,  was  delighted  with 
the  turn  of  events  which  bade  fair  to  provide 
Dick  with  a  settled  occupation,  and  one  so  well 
suited  to  his  tastes  and  training ;  while  as  to 
Uncle  Tom,  Dick  had  written  to  him  an  account 
of  the  present  condition  of  the  King  Philip  mine, 
and  had  given  him  a  full  description  of  the 
undertaking  upon  which  we  proposed  to  enter. 
In  reply,  my  genial  guardian  had  sent  to  me  a 
characteristic  telegram,  delivered  the  very  morn- 
ing Dick  left  Mosby.     It  read  thus  : 


The  Big  Flume  303 

"  Go  ahead.  Money  when  wanted.  How 
about  book-learning  now  ?  " 

''  How's  that,  Dick  ?  "  said  1,  handing  it  over 
to  my  companion  to  read. 

Dick  laughed.  "  You  made  a  pretty  good 
guess,  didn't  you  ?  "  he  replied. 

It  was  a  matter  of  intense  satisfaction  to  both 
of  us  to  find  our  guardians  so  heartily  in  favor 
of  the  prosecution  of  our  design,  and  it  was  with 
high  spirits  and  a  firm  determination  to  "do  or 
die  "  that  we  carried  over  the  bridge  the  assort- 
ment of  tools  with  which  old  Fritz  was  laden, 
and  that  very  afternoon  went  systematically  to 
work. 

It  was  not  until  we  really  went  about  it  in 
earnest  that  we  fully  realized  the  magnitude  of 
the  task  we  had  set  ourselves  when  we  under- 
took to  build  that  flume.  We  were  determined 
that  if  we  did  it  at  all  we  would  do  it  thoroughly 
well,  and  in  consequence  the  timbers  we  selected 
for  the  stringers  were  of  such  size  and  weight 
that  we  should  have  been  beaten  at  the  word 
"  go  "  if  we  had  not  had  for  an  assistant  a  man 
like  Pedro,  who  combined  in  his  own  person  the 
strength  of  five  ordinary  men.  It  was  a  pleasure 
to  see  him  when  he  put  forth  all  his  powers. 
Give  him  a  lever,  and  let  him  take  his  own  time. 


304  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

and  the  most  obstinate  log  was  made  to  travel 
sulkily  down  hill  when  Pedro  took  it  in  hand. 

After  measuring  with  particular  accuracy  the 
space  between  the  sockets  on  either  side  of  the 
gorge,  we  sawed  off  one  big  timber  to  the  right 
length,  and  getting  it  into  position  over  the  saw- 
pit  we  squared  its  two  ends  and  then  sawed  it 
flat  on  one  side,  leaving  the  other  sides  un- 
touched. 

I  had  always  understood  that  working  in  a 
saw-pit  was  a  disagreeable  job,  but  not  till  I  had 
practical  experience  of  it  did  I  discover  how  cor- 
rect my  understanding  had  been.  I  discovered 
also  why  the  expression,  "  top  sawyer,"  was 
meant  to  indicate  an  unviable  position. 

It  fell  to  Pedro  to  be  top  sawyer,  for  the  harder 
part  of  the  work  is  the  continuous  lifting  of  the 
saw  ;  but  for  all  that,  the  man  below  has  the 
worst  of  it,  for  if  he  looks  up  he  gets  a  stream  of 
sawdust  into  his  eyes,  and  if  he  looks  down  he 
gets  it  in  the  back  of  his  neck.  There  is  no 
escape,  as  Dick  and  I  found — for  we  took  it  in 
turns  to  go  below  and  pull  at  the  saw-handle. 

However,  we  were  not  going  to  shirk  the  task 
just  because  it  happened  to  be  unpleasant,  and 
being  fairly  in  for  it,  we  made  the  best  of  it. 

Our  first  big  timber  being  at  length  prepared. 


The  Big  Flume  305 

we  got  it  down  to  the  edge  of  the  canon,  and 
tlien  were  ready  for  the  next  move — the  most 
important  move  of  all — getting  it  across  the 
gorge.  This  could  not  be  done  by  main 
strength,  as  had  been  the  case  with  our  bridge- 
timbers,  for  this  stick,  twenty-nine  feet  long  and 
sixteen  inches  square,  though  pretty  well 
seasoned,  was  an  immense  weight. 

But  what  could  not  be  done  by  force  might  be 
accomplished  by  contrivance.  The  most  bulky 
part  of  old  Fritz's  load  had  been  composed  of 
ropes  and  pulley-blocks,  and  it  was  with  these  that 
we  intended  to  coax  our  big  stick  across  the  gap. 

Going  over  to  the  other  side,  we  set  up  a 
framework  of  stout  poles-^-a  derrick,  we  called 
it — to  the  top  of  which  we  attached  a  big 
pulley.  Threading  a  strong  rope  through  this 
pulley,  we  carried  it  back  and  fastened  it  to  a 
windlass  which  Dick  built ;  he  having  seen 
dozens  of  them  at  work  among  the  mines,  hav- 
ing observed,  fortunately,  how  they  were  made, 
and  being  himself  a  ver}'  handy  fellow  with 
tools.  The  windlass  was  securely  anchored  to 
two  trees,  when,  the  other  end  of  the  rope 
having  been  carried  over  and  tied  to  our  big 
log,  we  were  ready  to  try  the  experiment  of 
placing  it  athwart  the  chasm. 


306  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

With  this  object,  Dick  and  Pedro  turned  the 
windlass,  while  1,  crossing  the  bridge  once 
more,  pried  the  log  forward  from  behind.  It 
was  a  slow  and  laborious  operation,  but  inch  by 
inch  the  great  log  went  grating  and  grinding 
forward,  until  at  length  its  end  overlapped  the 
further  edge  of  the  gorge.  Soon,  with  a  sullen 
thump,  my  end  fell  into  its  socket,  when  Dick 
lowered  his  end  into  the  socket  opposite,  and 
our  first  big  stringer  was  successfully  laid. 

It  was  a  good  start  and  greatly  heartened  us 
up  to  tackle  the  rest  of  the  work. 

Our  second  big  stringer  we  prepared  and  laid 
in  the  same  manner — flat  side  up — and  then 
came  the  most  ticklish  job  of  all — the  placing 
of  the  two  supports  beneath  each  stringer. 
Without  Pedro,  with  his  steady  nerves  and  his 
cat-like  agility,  we  could  not  have  done  it. 

Tying  a  rope  to  the  stringer,  Pedro  descended 
the  face  of  the  cliff  and  set  the  butt-end  of  the 
supporting  beam  in  its  socket — the  other  end 
being  temporarily  tied  in  place — repeating  the 
same  process  on  the  other  side.  These  beams 
we  had  measured  and  prepared  with  great  care, 
so  that  when  their  bases  were  set,  the  beveled 
smaller  ends,  by  persistent  pounding,  could  be 
tightly  jammed   into  the  notch  previously  cut 


The  Big   Flume  307 

for  their  reception  in  the  under  side  of  the  big 
stringer.  It  was  a  good  piece  of  work,  and  very 
thankful  I  was  when  it  was  safely  accomplished  ; 
for  though  to  one  with  a  clear  head  it  might  not 
be  very  dangerous,  it  looked  so,  and  I  was,  as  I 
say,  greatly  relieved  when  it  was  done. 

It  might  seem  that  we  made  these  stringers 
unnecessarily  strong,  and  perhaps  we  did.  But 
we  intended  to  be  on  the  safe  side  if  we  could. 
Our  flume  was  designed  to  be  eight  feet  wide 
and  five  feet  deep,  and  though  the  pitch  was 
considerable  and  the  water  in  consequence 
would  run  fast,  if  it  should  by  chance  ever  fill 
to  the  top  there  would  be  by  our  calculation 
thirty-three  or  thirty-four  tons  of  water  in  it. 

Having  now  our  foundation  laid,  the  rest  of 
the  work  was  plain,  straightforward  building,  in 
which  there  was  no  special  mechanical  diffi- 
culty. One  part  of  our  task,  however — the 
sawing  of  the  lumber — we  soon  found  to  be  so 
slow  that  we  decided,  if  we  could  get  them,  to 
procure  the  assistance  of  two  or  three  Mexicans 
from  Hermanos,  and  with  that  object  in  view 
we  sought  an  interview  with  our  friend,  Jose 
Santanna. 

To  do  this  we  supposed  we  should  have  to  go 
down  to  Hermanos,  but  on  consulting  Pedro, 


3o8  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

we  found  that  there  was  another  and  a  much 
easier  way. 

I  had  often  wondered  if  Pedro,  during  all  the 
years  he  had  lived  on  the  mountain,  had  sub- 
sisted exclusively  on  meat,  or  whether  he  had 
some  means  of  obtaining  other  supplies,  and 
now  I  found  out.  I  found  that  he  had  a  regular 
system  of  exchange  with  the  villagers,  by  which 
he  traded  deer-meat  and  bear-meat  for  other 
provisions,  and  that  by  an  arranged  code  of 
signals,  familiar  to  everybody  in  the  village, 
with  the  single  exception  of  Galvez  himself,  he 
was  accustomed  to  let  it  be  known  when  he  de- 
sired to  communicate  with  the  inhabitants. 

Accordingly,  Pedro  that  day  at  noon  went 
down  to  a  certain  spot  on  one  of  the  spurs,  and 
there  built  a  fire,  and  piling  on  it  a  number  of 
green  boughs  he  soon  had  a  column  of  smoke 
rising  skyward.  This  was  the  signal,  and  that 
same  evening  he  and  we  two  boys,  going  down 
to  the  same  spot,  sat  down  there  and  waited, 
until  about  an  hour  after  dark,  we  heard  the 
sound  of  a  horse's  hoofs,  and  presently  a  man 
rode  into  sight.  It  proved  to  be  Santanna  him- 
self, much  to  our  satisfaction. 

He,  as  soon  as  he  learned  what  we  wanted, 
engaged  to  send  us  up  three  stout  young  Mexi- 


The  Big  Flume  309 

cans,  an  engagement  he  duly  fulfilled — to  the 
rage  and  bewilderment  of  Galvez,  as  we  after- 
ward heard,  who  could  not  for  the  life  of  him 
make  out  what  had  become  of  them. 

With  this  accession  of  strength  we  needed  a 
second  saw,  and  Dick  went  off  to  Mosby  to  get 
one.  In  a  few  days  he  returned  with  two  saws 
instead  of  one,  and  with  a  load  of  dried  apples, 
sugar  and  coffee  with  which  to  feed  our  hungry 
Mexicans.  Flour — of  a  kind — we  could  get 
from  the  village,  and  deer-meat,  though  poor 
and  tough  at  that  season  of  the  year,  we  could 
always  procure. 

Dick  also  brought  back  with  him  that  com- 
modity so  necessary  in  all  business  undertakings 
— some  money.  The  professor  had  insisted  on 
advancing  him  some,  while  Uncle  Tom  had  en- 
closed fifty  dollars  in  a  registered  letter  to  me. 

Thus  armed,  we  procured  two  more  Mexi- 
cans, and  setting  Pedro  and  his  five  compatriots 
to  work  with  the  three  saws,  while  Dick  and  I 
did  the  carpenter  work,  we  very  soon  began  to 
make  a  showing. 

As  it  was  obviously  too  dangerous  to  attempt 
to  work  on  the  bare  stringers,  we  first  laid  a 
solid  temporary  floor  of  three-inch  planks,  and 
having  then  a  good  platform  we  could  proceed 


3IO  The  Trail  of  the   Badger 

in  safety  to  set  our  big  cross-pieces — upon 
which  the  permanent  floor  was  afterward  laid 
— and  to  go  ahead  with  the  rest  of  the  build- 
ing. 

There  being  no  stint  of  timber,  we  could 
afford  to  make  our  flume  immensely  strong — 
and  we  did.  The  framework  was  composed 
mostl}^  of  ten-by-ten  pieces,  while  the  planks 
for  the  floor  and  sides  were  three  inches  thick. 
The  wings  at  each  end  of  the  flume  were  ex- 
tended up  stream  and  down  stream  eight  feet  in 
either  direction  ;  and  to  prevent  the  water  from 
getting  around  these  ends  we  built  rough  stone 
walls  on  the  edge  of  the  gorge  and  filled  in  the 
spaces  with  well-tamped  clay,  of  which  we  were 
fortunate  enough  to  find  a  great  supply  close  at 
hand. 

I  do  not  intend  to  go  into  all  the  many  details 
of  the  work,  or  to  relate  our  mistakes  or  the 
accidents — all  of  them  slight,  fortunately — 
which  now  and  then  befell  us.  There  was  one 
little  item  of  construction,  however,  which 
seemed  to  me  so  ingenious  and  withal  so 
simple  and  so  effective  that  I  think  it  is  w^orth 
special  mention. 

When  we  came  to  lay  our  floor  and  build  the 
sides,  the  question  of  leakage  cropped  up,  when 


The  Big   Flume  3 1 1 

Dick  suggested  a  plau  which  he  said  he  had 
heard  of  as  being  adopted  by  sheepmen  on  the 
plains  in  building  dipping-troughs. 

Each  three-inch  plank,  before  being  spiked 
in  place,  was  set  up  on  edge,  and  along  the 
middle  of  its  whole  length  we  hammered  a  dent 
about  half  an  inch  wide  and  half  an  inch  deep. 
Then,  taking  the  jack-plane,  we  planed  off  the 
projecting  edges  to  the  same  level.  The  conse- 
quence was  that  when  the  plank  became  water- 
soaked,  this  dented  line  swelled  up  and  com- 
pletely closed  any  crack  between  itself  and  the 
plank  above  or  beside  it.  It  was  an  ingenious 
trick,  and  proved  so  successful  that  it  was  well 
worth  the  time  and  trouble  it  took. 

In  fact,  by  the  expenditure  of  time  and 
trouble,  in  addition  to  a  very  modest  sum  of 
money,  we  did  at  length  put  together  a  flume 
which,  I  think  I  may  say,  was  a  very  creditable 
piece  of  work.  It  was  strenuous  and  unceasing 
labor,  and  at  first  it  was  pretty  hard  on  me,  but 
as  my  muscles  became  used  to  the  strain  I 
enjoyed  it  more  and  more,  especially  as  every 
evening  showed  a  forward  step — a  small  one, 
perhaps,  but  still  a  forward  step — toward  the 
accomplishment  of  our  object. 

Week  after  week  we  kept  at  it,  steadily  and 


3  1  2  The  Trail  of  the   Badger 

perseveringly  pegging  away,  and  at  last,  one 
day  near  the  end  of  July,  summoning  our  six 
Mexicans  to  witness  the  ceremony,  Dick  and  I, 
in  alternate  "licks"  drove  the  last  spike,  and 
the  flume  was  finished  I 


CHAPTER  XIX 

Pedro's  Bold  Stroke 

ALL  this  time  the  wolves  had  let  us  alone. 
Frequently,  toward  evening,  we  would 
detect  them  standing  on  the  hillsides  watching 
us,  but  they  were  afraid  to  come  near :  the 
hammering  and  sawing,  the  stir  and  bustle 
checked  them  and  the}^  kept  aloof — by  day- 
light. 

Every  night,  though,  they  came  down  to  the 
edge  of  the  canon  to  howl  at  us,  and  as  the 
flume  neared  completion  there  was  danger  that 
they  might  summon  courage  to  cross  by  it — the 
old  bridge  we  had  long  ago  tumbled  into  the 
stream.  To  prevent  this,  we  at  first  set  up  every 
night  a  temporary  gate  across  it,  but  later,  we 
adopted  a  safer  and  better  plan.  We  set  two 
doors  in  our  flume,  one  in  the  down-stream  end, 
the  other  in  the  side,  about  the  middle,  so  that 
by  closing  the  former  and  opening  the  latter, 
all  the  water  could  be  made  to  fall  into  the 
stream  below.  Our  supply  could  thus  be  regu- 
3^3 


314  The  Trail   of  the   Badger 

lated  at  the  flume  instead  of  going  all  the  way 
up  to  the  old  head-gate  for  the  purpose. 

These  gates  being  set,  Pedro  and  another 
Mexican  went  up  and  opened  connection  be- 
tween the  lake  and  the  low  place  where  we  had 
stirred  up  the  deer  the  first  day  we  were  up 
there,  and  very  soon  there  was  a  second  little 
lake  formed.  Then,  the  flume  being  ready,  we 
two  and  Pedro  went  up  and  raised  the  stone 
head-gate  three  inches.  The  rush  with  which 
the  water  came  out  was  astonishing,  and  before 
the  day  was  over  it  had  come  on  down  to  the 
flume  and  was  pouring  through  the  side  gate 
into  the  gorge — making  a  perfect  defence  against 
the  wolves. 

During  the  two  months,  or  thereabouts,  that 
we  had  been  engaged  in  this  work,  Dick  had 
made  altogether  three  trips  to  Mosby,  on  which 
occasions  he  had  written  to  Arthur,  detailing 
our  progress.  Arthur,  on  his  part,  had  written 
to  us — or,  rather,  somewhat  to  our  surprise,  he 
had  written  to  the  professor  instead  of  directly 
to  Dick— once  from  Santa  Fe  and  once  from 
the  City  of  Mexico,  whither  he  had  been  sent 
to  institute  a  search  of  the  records  there.  His 
last  letter  stated  that  up  to  that  time  no  trace  of 
the  old  patent  had  been  found,  but  that,  in  spite 


Pedro's   Bold  Stroke  315 

of  that  drawback,  his  father  was  vigorously  stir- 
ring things  up  at  his  end  of  the  line,  and  that 
we  might  expect  to  see  "  something  doing  "  in 
the  enemy's  camp  at  any  time.  He  stated  also 
that  he  had  hopes  of  rejoining  us  some  time 
early  in  July. 

In  consequence,  we  had  been  constantly  on 
the  watch  for  him  for  nearly  a  month,  but  here 
was  the  end  of  July  approaching  and  no  Arthur 
had  appeared. 

As  we  were  very  anxious  to  know  when  to 
expect  him,  and  as  we  were  also  in  need  of  new 
supplies,  the  moment  the  flume  was  finished 
Dick  set  off  once  more  for  Mosby,  while  Pedro 
and  I,  transferring  all  our  tools  from  the  far 
side  of  the  gorge,  picked  out  a  new  working- 
ground  on  our  side. 

There  was  nothing  further  to  be  done  on  the 
"  island,"  but  though  the  flume  was  finished 
and  ready  for  use,  we  still  had  need  of  a  large 
amount  of  lumber  in  the  construction  of  our 
ditch,  for  at  the  head  of  every  draw  it  would  be 
necessary  to  build  a  short  flume,  or,  in  some 
places,  a  culvert,  to  allow  a  passage  for  the 
rain-water  which  otherwise  during  the  summer 
thunder-storm  season  would  wash  our  ditch  full 
of  earth  and  rubbish. 


3 1 6  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

As  it  would  be  too  inconvenient,  unfortu- 
nately, to  cut  lumber  in  the  old  place  and  carry 
it  across  the  flume,  we  moved  all  the  tools,  as  I 
said,  over  to  our  side,  and  following  along  the 
line  of  the  ditch  for  about  half  a  mile,  we 
selected  a  spot  above  it  on  the  mountain  and 
there  set  our  Mexicans  to  work  felling  trees  and 
digging  new  saw-pits. 

From  the  place  selected  we  could  see  out  over 
the  plain  in  all  directions  ;  a  fact  which  had 
been  one  of  our  reasons  for  choosing  that  par- 
ticular spot. 

Indeed  it  had  become  a  matter  of  great  im- 
portance that  we  should  be  able  to  keep  a  watch 
on  the  valley,  for  we  believed  we  had  more 
than  ever  reason  to  fear  some  act  of  hostility  on 
the  part  of  the  padron.  Dick  had  no  more 
than  gone  that  day,  when  we  were  surprised 
by  receiving  a  daylight  visit  from  our  friend, 
Jose  Santanna,  who  informed  us  that  Galvez  of 
late  had  been  showing  unwonted  signs  of  unrest ; 
that  he  was  growing  more  and  more  suspicious, 
irritable  and  evil-tempered.  That  the  evening 
before  a  man  had  ridden  into  the  village  and 
had  handed  Galvez  a  paper — some  legal  notice, 
I  guessed — upon  receipt  of  which  the  padron 
had  at  first  broken  into  a  towering  rage ;  had 


Pedro's  Bold  Stroke  317 

then  gone  about  for  half  a  day  in  a  mood  so 
morose  and  snappish  that  no  one  dared  go  near 
him  ;  and  that  finally  he  had  ordered  his  horse 
and  ridden  away,  saying  that  he  was  going  to 
Taos. 

"  To  Taos  !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  What  has  he 
gone  to  Taos  for?" 

Jose  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  spread  out 
his  hands,  palms  upward,  as  much  as  to  say, 
"Who  knows?" 

"  Have  we  scared  him  out  after  all,  I  won- 
der," said  I.  "  Did  he  say  anything  about  com- 
ing back,  Jose?" 

"  He  said  he  would  return  in  four  days," 
replied  the  Mexican. 

"  And  is  that  all  you  know  about  it  ?  " 

"  Si,  seFior,  that  is  all.     I  know  no  more." 

From  this  conversation  it  was  plain  to  me 
that  the  law  was  beginning  to  work,  and  that 
Galvez  was  becoming  uneasy.  Knowing  his 
character,  I,  too,  became  uneasy,  for,  should  he 
be  rendered  desperate,  there  was  no  telling  what 
tactics  he  might  resort  to.  It  was  this  consider- 
ation that  made  me  so  anxious  for  the  safe 
return  of  my  two  partners. 

From  my  vantage-point  on  the  mountain  I 
kept  up  a  pretty  constant  watch  for  the  next 


3 1  8  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

few  days  ;  no  one  could  come  across  the  valley 
from  any  direction  without  my  seeing  them — 
during  daylight,  that  is — and  unless  Galvez  had 
slipped  into  Hermanos  after  dark  I  was  sure  he 
had  not  returned,  when,  about  three  o'clock  on 
the  afternoon  of  the  fourth  day  I  espied  Dick,  a 
long  way  off,  coming  back  from  Mosby.  It  was 
twelve  hours  earlier  than  I  had  expected  him, 
and  wondering  if  he  had  any  special  reason  for 
making  such  a  quick  trip,  I  got  my  pony  and 
hurried  off  to  meet  him. 

I  had  a  feeling  that  Dick  was  bringing  news 
of  some  sort,  and  his  first  words  after  shaking 
hands  proved  the  correctness  of  my  impression. 

"  Well,  old  chap  !  "  he  exclaimed.  ''  I've  got 
news  for  you  this  time  that  will  make  you  '  sit 
up  and  take  notice ' : — Arthur  may  be  here  any 
day  ;  and  he  has  at  last  got  track  of  that  patent." 

"  Got  a  letter  from  him,  then,  did  you  ?  "  I 
asked. 

"  Yes ;  written  from  Cadiz,  in  Spain,  more 
than  three  weeks  ago." 

"  From  Cadiz  !  "  I  cried.  "  What's  he  doing 
there?" 

"  His  father  sent  him  over  to  go  through  a 
chest  of  old  papers  they  have  in  their  house  there. 
Arthur  says — I'll  give  you  his  letter  to  read  as 


Pedro's  Bold  Stroke  319 

soon  as  we  get  to  camp — he  says  that  he  spent  a 
fortnight  reading  all  sorts  of  musty  documents, 
without  success,  when  at  last  he  came  upon  an 
old  note-book  with  the  name  of  Arthur  the  First 
on  its  fly-leaf,  and  in  that  he  found  a  single  line 
referring  to  the  patent — the  only  mention  that 
has  turned  up  anywhere." 

"  And  what  does  that  say  ?  " 

"  It  says Here,  wait  a  minute;  hold  my 

rifle,     I'll  show  you  what  it  says." 

So  saying,  Dick  took  the  letter  out  of  his 
pocket,  and  finding  the  right  place,  handed  it 
to  me.  The  passage  read :  "  It  was  an  old 
memorandum-book  in  which  my  very  great- 
grandfather used  to  note  down  all  the  particu- 
lars of  the  copper  shipments  and  other  matters 
dealing  with  the  K.  P.  mine ;  but  on  the  last 
fly-leaf  was  this  entry,  written  in  English : 
'  Mem.  In  case  of  accident  to  myself :  The 
King's  patent  and  the  King's  commission  are  in 
a  hole  in  the  wall  above  the  door  of  the  strong- 
room.' Where  the  strong-room  may  have  been," 
Arthur  went  on,  "  I  don't  know,  unless  it  is  in 
the  Casa.     Ask  Pedro." 

"What  do  you  think  of  that?"  asked  Dick. 

"I    think Well,    I   think    we'll   do   as 

Arthur  says  :  ask  Pedro." 


320  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

In  the  course  of  an  hour  we  had  reached 
camp,  when  Dick,  as  soon  as  he  had  greeted  the 
faithful  Mexican,  at  once  propounded  the  im- 
portant question. 

"  Pedro,"  said  he,  without  any  preface,  "  did 
you  ever  hear  of  the  '  strong-room  '  ?  " 

"  Surely,"  replied  Pedro,  with  an  air  of  sur- 
prise at  being  asked  such  a  question.  **  Every- 
body knows  the  strong-room.  It  is  a  little  room 
on  the  east  side  of  the  Casa ;  it  has  a  door  and 
no  window ;  it  is  where  one  time  the  copper 
was  stored,  waiting  for  the  pack-trains  to  come 
and  take  it  away." 

"  It  is,  is  it !  "  cried  Dick.  "  Then,  Frank,  I 
shouldn't  be  a  bit  surprised  if  those  deeds  were 
in  there  now.     How  are  we  to  find  out?  " 

"  Go  and  look  !  "  I  exclaimed,  springing  to 
my  feet.  "  Now's  our  chance  !  Galvez  is  away 
— gone  to  Taos.  Let  us  make  a  try  for  it  at 
once.  He's  due  to  be  back  to-day,  and  then  it 
will  be  too  late.  Come  on  !  Let's  get  out ! 
We  haven't  a  minute  to  lose !  Will  you  come 
with  us,  Pedro?" 

To  my  surprise,  and,  I  must  confess,  to  my 
disappointment  also,  Pedro  shook  his  head.  I 
supposed  he  was  afraid  to  leave  his  mountain, 
and  for  a  moment  my  opinion  of  his  courage 


Pedro's  Bold  Stroke  321 

suffered  a  relapse.  But  I  was  doing  him  an  in- 
justice, as  I  heartily  owned  to  myself,  when, 
pointing  out  over  the  valley,  he  said,  quietly  : 

"  It  is  too  late  already,  seilor.     Look  there  !  " 

Half  a  mile  the  other  side  of  Hermanos, 
riding  toward  the  village,  were  three  horsemen, 
one  of  whom  we  recognized  as  Galvez.  Who 
the  others  might  be,  and  why  the  padron  should 
be  bringing  them  to  Hermanos,  we  could  not 
guess.  We  were  destined,  however,  to  learn  all 
about  them  later  in  the  day. 

As  a  matter  of  course,  the  sole  subject  of  our 
thoughts  and  our  conversation  was  the  King's 
patent,  and  whether  or  not  it  was  still  in  its 
hiding-place  above  the  door  of  the  strong-room. 
The  only  way  to  find  out  was  to  get  in  there 
and  search  for  it,  but  how  to  do  that  was  the 
question.  Many  plans  did  we  discuss  and  dis- 
card, and  we  were  still  discussing  as  we  sat 
round  the  fire  that  night — our  Mexican  work- 
men being  encamped  some  distance  away — 
when  Pedro  suddenly  jumped  up,  and  signal- 
ing to  us  to  keep  quiet,  stood  for  a  moment  with 
his  head  bent  forward,  listening  intently.  His 
sharp  ears  had  detected  some  sound  inaudible 
to  our  less  practised  hearing. 

Making  a  quick  backward  motion  with  his 


322  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

hand,  he  whispered  sharply  :  "  Get  away  !  Get 
away  back  from  the  light  of  the  fire  while  I  go 
see ! " 

We  speedily  retreated  up  the  hill  a  little  way 
and  hid  ourselves  among  the  trees,  while  Pedro, 
with  the  stealth  of  a  wild  animal,  slipped  si- 
lently off  into  the  darkness.  So  quick  and  so 
noiseless  were  the  movements  of  the  clums}'- 
looking  Mexican  that  I  thought  to  myself  I  had 
rather  be  hunted  by  wolves  than  by  that  skil- 
ful woodsman,  with  his  keen  senses,  his  giant 
strength  and  his  deadly,  silent  bow  and  arrow. 
I  did  not  wonder  any  more  that  Galvez  kept 
himself  aloof. 

For  two  or  three  minutes  silence  prevailed, 
when  we  saw  Pedro  step  back  into  the  circle  of 
light,  and  with  him  another  man.  It  was  our 
friend,  Jose  Santanna,  again. 

"  Well,  Jose  !  "  cried  Dick.  "  What  can  we 
do  for  you?  " 

"  Sefior,"  replied  the  Mexican,  "  I  came  up  to 
tell  you  something — to  warn  you.  The  padron 
is  come  back.  He  has  been  to  Taos  and  he  has 
brought  back  with  him  two  men.  They  are  bad 
— like  himself.  I  go  up  to  the  Casa  this  even- 
ing while  the}^  are  at  supper  and  I  hear  them 
talking  and  laughing  together  through  the  door 


Pedro's  Bold  Stroke  323 

which  is  open.  They  say  they  like  now  to  see 
three  boys  and  a  stupid  peon  " — he  nodded  to- 
ward Pedro — "  get  them  out.  They  say  if  they 
catch  Pedro  they  hang  him,  and  if  they  catch 
'  that  young  Blake  '  they  shoot  him.  They  are 
dangerous,  senor." 

"  We  shall  have  to  keep  our  eyes  wide  open," 
said  Dick.  "  Do  you  think  they'll  venture  up 
here,  Jose?  " 

"  I  think  not,"  replied  the  Mexican.  "  One 
of  the  men  say,  '  Let  us  go  up  on  the  mountain 
and  catch  them,'  but  the  padron,  he  say  very 
quick,  '  No,  no.  I  do  not  go  up  on  the  moun- 
tain. While  they  are  there  they  do  no  harm, 
but  if  they  come  down  here,  then ! '  " 

"  I  see,"  said  Dick.  "  They  mean  to  hold  the 
fort  against  all  comers.  It  is  pretty  evident,  I 
think,  that  Galvez  has  been  back  to  his  old 
haunts,  hunted  out  a  couple  of  his  old-time 
cronies,  and  brought  them  back  to  garrison  the 
Cam,  meaning  to  defy  the  law  to  get  him  out." 

"That's  it,  I  expect,"  said  I.  ''And  our 
chances  of  getting  into  the  strong-room  are  a 
good  deal  slimmer  than  ever." 

It  certainly  did  look  so ;  yet,  as  it  happened,  I 
never  made  a  greater  mistake. 

Who  would  have  guessed  how  soon  we  were 


324  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

to  get  that  chance?  And  who  would  have 
guessed  that  the  man  who  was  to  provide  the 
opportunity — and  that  by  a  plan  so  bold  that  I 
am  astonished  at  it  yet — was  the  man  whom  I 
had  that  day  mentally  accused  of  cowardice  ? 
How  I  did  apologize  to  him  in  my  thoughts  ! 

"  Jose,"  said  Pedro,  "  does  the  padron  still  go 
to  bed  every  night  at  ten  o'clock,  as  he  used  to 
do?" 

"  Si,''  replied  the  cowman. 

"  Does  he  always  come  out  to  the  well  to  get 
a  drink  of  cold  water  just  before  he  goes  to  bed, 
as  he  used  to  do?" 

"  Si,"  replied  the  cowman  once  more. 

"  Those  two  men,  are  they  to  sleep  in  that 
room  next  the  padron's?  " 

"iS'i,"  replied  the  cowman  for  the  third  time. 

"  Good  I  "  exclaimed  Pedro.  "  What  time  is 
it,  senor?  "  turning  suddenly  to  Dick. 

"  Half  past  eight,"  replied  my  partner,  look- 
ing at  his  watch. 

"  Good  !  "  exclaimed  Pedro  once  more. 

For  a  minute  he  sat  silent,  his  lower  lip  stuck 
out,  frowning  at  the  fire,  while  we  sat  watching 
him,  wondering  what  he  was  thinking  about, 
when,  with  an  angry  grunt  he  muttered  to  him- 
self, "  Stupid  peon,  eh  !     Humph  !     We'll  see  !  " 


Pedro's  Bold  Stroke  325 

Then,  jumping  up,  he  said  briskly  :  "  Senores, 
get  your  horses.  We  will  search  the  strong- 
room to-night." 

Still  wondering  what  scheme  he  had  in  his 
head,  we  saddled  up  and  followed  him  as  he 
rode  down  the  mountain  and  out  upon  the  plain, 
too  much  engaged  for  the  moment  in  picking 
our  way  to  find  an  opportunity  to  ask  questions. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  our  guide  must  have 
something  of  the  wild  animal  in  him,  for, 
though  it  was  very  dark,  he  never  hesitated  for 
a  moment,  but  went  jogging  along,  threading 
his  way  through  the  sage-brush  Avithout  a  pause 
or  a  stumble.  Either  he  or  his  burro  must  have 
had  the  cat-like  gift  of  being  able  to  see  in  the 
dark. 

In  about  an  hour  we  saw  dimly  the  walls  of 
the  Casa  looming  up  near  us,  and  passing  by  it, 
we  went  on  down  to  the  creek  where  we  dis- 
mounted and  tied  up  our  horses  to  the  trees. 
Then,  following  down  the  creek  for  a  short  dis- 
tance, we  presently  came  opposite  the  front  gate 
of  the  Casa,  about  a  hundred  yards  distant. 
The  village  on  the  other  side  of  the  stream  was 
dark  and  silent,  but  in  one  of  the  rooms  in  the 
Casa,  facing  the  gateway,  we  could  see  a  light 
burning. 


326  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

"  That  is  the  padron's  room,"  whispered  Jos6. 
"  He  has  not  gone  to  bed  yet." 

Against  the  light  of  the  open  door  we  could 
see  between  us  and  the  house  the  long,  black 
arm  of  the  well-sweep,  and  advancing  toward  it, 
we  had  come  within  about  thirty  steps  of  it 
when  Pedro  requested  us  to  stop  there  and  lie 
down,  while  he  himself  went  on  and  crouched 
behind  the  curbing  of  the  well.  We  could  not 
see  him  ;  in  fact  we  could  see  nothing  but  the 
lights  in  the  window  and  doorway,  the  well- 
sweep,  and,  very  dimly,  the  outline  of  the 
building. 

There  we  lay  in  dead  silence  for  a  quarter  of 
an  hour,  wondering  what  Pedro  expected  to  do, 
when  we  heard  voices,  and  the  next  moment 
the  figures  of  two  men  showed  themselves  in 
the  lighted  doorway.  One  of  them  carried  a 
candle,  and  the  pair  of  them  went  into  the  next 
room — all  the  rooms  opened  into  the  courtyard 
— and  shut  the  door.  For  five  minutes  the 
light  showed  through  the  little  window  and 
then  went  out.  The  padron's  friends  had  gone 
to  bed. 

For  another  five  minutes  we  waited,  and  then 
the  padron  himself  appeared.  We  could  hear 
the  jingle  of  his  spurs  as  he  came  leisurely  down 


Pedro's  Bold  Stroke  327 

to  the  well  to  get  his  nightly  drink  of  cold 
water.     We  lay  still,  hardly  daring  to  breathe. 

Presently,  we  heard  the  squeak  of  the  well- 
sweep  and  saw  it  come  round,  dip  down  and 
rise  again.  Then  we  heard  the  clink  of  a 
cup  :  Galvez  was  taking  his  drink.  He  never 
finished  it ! 

At  that  moment  Pedro's  burly  form  rose 
up  from  behind  the  curbing ;  he  took  two 
steps  forward,  and  with  his  great  right  hand  he 
seized  Galvez  by  the  neck  from  behind,  giving 
it  such  a  squeeze  that  the  unfortunate  man 
could  not  utter  a  sound.  We  heard  the  cup  fall 
to  the  ground  with  a  clatter. 

Then,  grasping  the  helpless  padron  by  the 
back  of  his  trousers,  the  little  giant  swung  him 
off  his  feet  and  hoisting  him  high  above  his 
head,  stepped  to  the  rim  of  the  curbing.  The 
next  moment  there  was  a  muffled  splash — 
Galvez  had  been  dropped  into  the  well ! 

He  had  been  dropped  in  feet  foremost,  how- 
ever, and  as  the  well  was  only  twelve  feet  deep 
with  four  feet  of  water  in  it,  his  life  was  not  en- 
dangered. 

At  this  point  we  all  jumped  up  and  ran  for- 
ward, reaching  the  well  just  as  Galvez  recovered 
his  feet,  as  we  could  tell  by  the  coughing  and 


328  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

spluttering  noises  which  came  up  from  below. 
As  we  approaciied,  Pedro  leaned  over  the  coping 
and  said  in  a  low  voice  : 

"  Good-evening,  Padron.  This  is  Pedro 
Sanchez.  If  you  make  any  noise  I  drop  the 
bucket  of  water  on  your  head." 

This  gentle  hint  was  not  lost  upon  Galvez, 
who  contented  himself  with  muttered  growlings 
of  an  uncomplimentary  nature,  when  Pedro, 
turning  to  Dick,  whispered  sharply  : 

"  Run  quick  now  to  the  strong-room.  I  stay 
here  to  guard  the  padron." 

In  company  with  the  barefooted  Jose,  we  ran 
into  the  courtyard,  where  the  Mexican  pointed 
out  to  us  the  door  of  the  strong-room,  the  first 
on  the  right,  and  while  Dick  and  I  pulled  it 
open,  taking  great  care  to  make  no  noise, 
Jose  himself  ran  on  to  the  padron's  room, 
whence  he  quickly  returned  with  a  candle  in 
his  hand. 

While  Dick  stood  guard  outside,  in  case  the 
padron's  two  friends  should  come  out,  I  slipped 
into  the  little  room,  where,  finding  an  empty 
barrel,  I  placed  it  in  front  of  the  doorway, 
jumped  upon  it,  and  taking  my  sheath-knife,  I 
stabbed  at  the  adobe  wall  just  above  the  lintel 
of  the  door.     The  second  or  third  stroke  pro- 


Pedro's  Bold  Stroke  329 

duced  a  hollow  sound  and  brought  down  a 
shower  of  dried  mud,  when,  vigorously  attack- 
ing the  spot,  I  soon  uncovered  a  little  board 
which  had  been  let  into  the  wall  and  plastered 
over  with  adobe. 

In  a  few  seconds  I  had  pried  this  out,  when  I 
found  that  the  space  behind  it  was  hollow,  and 
thrusting  in  my  hand  I  brought  out  a  brass  box 
shaped  like  a  magnified  cigar-case. 

"  Dick  !  "  I  whispered,  eagerly.  "  I've  found 
something  !     Come  in  here  !  " 

My  partner  quickly  joined  me,  when  we  pried 
open  the  box,  finding  that  it  contained  a  parcel 
wrapped  up  in  a  piece  of  cloth.  Imagine  our 
excitement  when  on  tearing  off  the  wrapping 
we  found  that  the  contents  of  the  package  con- 
sisted of  two  parchment  documents,  written  in 
Spanish  I  We  had  no  time  to  examine  them 
thoroughly,  but  a  hasty  glance  convincing  us 
that  we  had  indeed  found  what  we  sought,  and 
there  being  nothing  else  in  the  hole,  I  crammed 
the  parchments  back  into  the  box,  shoved  the 
box  into  my  pocket,  buttoned  my  coat,  and 
away  we  went  back  to  the  well. 

"  Find  it?  "  whispered  Pedro. 

I  replied  by  patting  my  pocket. 

Pedro  nodded  ;  and  then,  having  first  lowered 


330  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

the  bucket  into  the  well  again,  he  leaned  over 
the  coping  and  said  softly  : 

"  Padron,  you  may  come  out  now  as  soon  as 
you  like." 

With  that,  leaving  Galvez  to  climb  out  if  he 
could,  or  to  remain  where  he  was  if  he  couldn't, 
we  all  turned  and  ran  for  it. 

Having  recovered  our  horses,  Jose  bolted  for 
home,  while  we  went  off  as  fast  as  we  dared  in 
the  darkness  for  camp. 

There,  by  the  light  of  the  fire,  we  examined 
our  capture.  One  of  the  parchments  Avas  the 
commission  of  old  Arthur  the  First  to  the  "  Gov- 
ernorship "  of  the  King  Philip  mine  ;  the  other 
was  the  original  "  Grant "  of  the  Hermanos 
tract  from  Philip  V,  King  of  Spain,  the  Indies 
and  a  dozen  other  countries,  to  his  trusty  and 
well-beloved  subject,  Arturo  Blake. 

"  This  is  great !  "  cried  Dick.  "  This  will 
settle  the  title  without  any  chance  of  dispute. 
Galvez  may  as  well  pack  up  and  go  now.  I 
wonder  what  he'll  do?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  Galvez  will  do,"  said 
I ;  "  but  I  can  tell  you  what  we  must  do,  Dick. 
We  must  cut  and  run.  This  patent  must  be  put 
away  in  a  safe  place — and  it  isn't  safe  here  b}' 
any  means.     Galvez  will  be  about  crazy  with 


Pedro's   Bold  Stroke  331 

rage  at  having  been  dropped  into  the  well ;  and 
for  another  thing,  he'll  see  that  hole  above  the 
door,  and  he'll  know  that  whatever  it  was  we 
took  out  of  the  hole,  it  must  be  something  of 
importance  to  have  induced  us  to  come  raiding 
his  premises  like  that." 

"  That's  true,"  said  Dick,  nodding  his  head. 

"  And  I  shouldn't  be  a  bit  surprised,"  I  con- 
tinued, "  now  that  he  has  two  other  un- 
scrupulous rascals  to  back  him,  if  he  were  to 
come  raiding  us  in  return.  What  do  you  think, 
Pedro?" 

"  I  think  it  is  likel}^"  replied  the  Mexican. 
"  I  think  it  is  well  that  you  go,  and  stop  the 
Senor  Blake  from  coming  here.  Those  men  are 
dangerous.  For  me,  I  have  no  fear  :  I  can  take 
care  of  myself." 

"  Then  we'll  skip,"  said  Dick.  "  It's  safest ; 
and  it's  only  for  a  time,  anyhow,  for,  of  course, 
Galvez's  legal  ejection  is  certain,  sooner  or  later, 
now  that  we  have  the  patent  in  our  hands.  So 
we'll  get  out,  Frank,  the  very  first  thing  to- 
morrow." 

It  was  the  night  of  July  28th  that  we  came 
to  this  resolution  ;  though,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
we  were  not  aware  of  it  at  the  time,  for  we  had 
lost  track  of  the  days  of  the  month.     It  was  the 


332  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

astounding  event  of  the  day  following  that  im- 
pressed the  date  so  indelibly  on  our  memories. 

Men  plot  and  plan  and  calculate  and  contrive, 
thinking  themselves  very  clever ;  but  how 
feeble  they  are  when  Dame  Nature  steps  in  and 
takes  a  hand,  and  how  easily  she  can  upset  all 
their  calculations,  we  were  to  learn,  once  for  all, 
that  coming  day. 


CHAPTER  XX 
The  Memorable  Twenty-Ninth 

THOUGH  we  had  intended  to  get  off  about 
sunrise  we  failed  to  do  so,  for  we  found 
that  Galvez  was  on  the  lookout  for  us.  No 
sooner  had  we  started  than  we  saw  the  three 
men  ride  out  from  the  Casa  with  the  evident 
intention  of  cutting  us  off,  so,  not  wishing  to  get 
into  a  fight  if  it  could  be  avoided,  we  turned 
back  again. 

Thereupon,  the  enemy  also  turned  back  ;  but, 
watching  their  movements,  we  saw  that  soon 
after  they  had  entered  the  house,  the  figure  of 
one  of  them  appeared  again  on  the  roof,  and 
there  remained — a  sentinel.  Plainly,  they  were 
not  going  to  let  us  get  away  if  they  could 
help  it. 

At  midday,  however,  we  saw  the  sentinel  go 
down,  presumably  to  get  his  dinner,  when  we 
thought  we  would  try  again.  Pedro  therefore 
went  off  to  get  our  horses  for  us,  but  he  bad 
hardly  been  gone  a  minute  when  we  were 
startled  to  see  him  coming  back  with  them, 
333 


334  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

running  as  fast  as  his  short  legs  would  per- 
mit. 

"What's  the  matter,  Pedro?"  cried  Dick. 
"What's  wrong?" 

"  I  see  the  Senor  Arturo  coming  ! "  shouted 
the  Mexican. 

"  What !  "  cried  Dick,  and,  "  Where?  "  cried 
I,  both  turning  to  look  out  over  the  plain. 

That  man,  Pedro,  must  have  had  eyes  like 
telescopes  to  pretend  to  distinguish  any  one  at 
such  a  distance,  but  on  examining  the  little 
black  speck  through  the  glass  I  made  out  that 
it  was  a  horseman,  and  after  watching  him  for 
a  few  seconds  I  concluded  that  it  was  indeed  our 
friend,  Arthur,  returning. 

"  Frank  !  "  cried  my  partner.  "  We  must 
ride  out  to  meet  him  at  once  !  Pedro,  you  stay 
here  and  watch  the  Casa.  If  those  three  men 
come  out,  make  a  big  smoke  here  so  that  we 
may  know  whether  we  have  to  hurry  or  not." 

"  It  is  good,"  replied  the  Mexican  ;  and  see- 
ing that  he  might  be  relied  upon  to  give  us 
timely  warning — for  he  at  once  began  to  collect 
materials  for  his  fire — away  we  went. 

Riding  briskly,  though  without  haste,  we  had 
left  the  mountain  and  were  crossing  a  wide  de- 
pression in  the  plain,  when,  on  its  further  edge, 


The  Memojable  Twenty-Ninth       335 

there  suddenly  appeared  the  solitary  horseman, 
riding  toward  us  at  a  hard  gallop.  Dick 
turned  in  his  saddle  and  cast  a  glance  behind 
him. 

"  The  smoke  1  "  he  cried  ;  and  without  another 
word  we  clapped  our  heels  into  our  ponies'  ribs 
and  dashed  forward. 

As  Arthur  approached — for  we  could  now 
clearly  see  that  it  was  he — we  observed  that  he 
kept  looking  back  over  his  left  shoulder,  and 
just  as  we  arrived  within  hailing  distance  three 
other  horsemen  came  in  sight  over  the  southern 
rim  of  the  depression,  riding  at  a  furious  pace, 
their  bodies  bent  forward  over  their  horses' 
necks.  Each  of  the  three  carried  a  rifle,  we 
noticed,  and  one  of  the  three  was  Galvez. 

At  sight  of  us,  the  pursuers,  seemingly  taken 
aback  at  finding  themselves  confronted  by  three 
of  us,  when  they  had  expected  to  find  only  one, 
abruptly  pulled  up.  This  brief  pause  gave  time 
to  Arthur  to  join  us,  when  Dick,  slipping  down 
from  his  horse,  advanced  a  few  steps  toward 
the  enemy,  kneeled  down,  and  ostentatiously 
cocked  his  rifle. 

Whether  the  padron's  quick  ears  caught  the 
sound  of  the  cocking  of  the  rifle — which  seemed 
hardly  likely,  though  in  that  clear,  still  atmos- 


336  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

phere  the  sharp  click-click  would  carry  a  sur- 
prisingly long  distance — I  do  not  know  ;  but 
whatever  the  cause,  the  result  was  as  unex- 
pected as  it  was  satisfactory.  Galvez  uttered  a 
sharp  exclamation,  whirled  his  horse  round, 
and  away  they  all  went  again  as  fast  as  they 
had  come. 

"  See  that  1  "  cried  Arthur.  ''  What  did  I  tell 
you,  Dick  ?  We  have  to  thank  that  locoed 
steer  for  that." 

*'  I  expect  we  have,"  replied  Dick. 

"  Not  a  doubt  of  it,"  said  I.  "  I  was  sure  that 
Galvez  was  much  impressed  by  the  way  that 
steer  went  over,  and  now  I'm  surer.  Lucky  he 
was,  too,  for  those  three  fellows  meant  mischief, 
if  I'm  not  mistaken." 

"  That's  pretty  certain,  I  think,"  responded 
Arthur.  "  And  it  was  another  piece  of  good 
fortune  that  you  turned  up  just  when  you  did. 
How  did  it  happen  ?  " 

We  explained  the  circumstances,  but  we  had 
no  more  than  done  so,  when  Arthur  exclaimed  : 

"  Why,  here  comes  old  Pedro  now  !  At  a 
gallop,  too !  Everybody  seems  to  be  riding  at 
a  gallop  this  morning." 

Looking  toward  the  mountain,  we  saw  the 
Mexican  on  his  burro  coming  down  at  a  great 


The  Memorable  Twenty-Ninth      337 

pace,  but  we  had  hardly  caught  sight  of  him 
when  he  suddenly  stopped.  He  was  on  a  little 
elevation,  from  which,  evidently,  he  could  see 
Galvez  and  his  friends  careering  homeward,  and 
observing  that  the  afiair  was  over  and  that  his 
assistance  was  not  needed,  he  forthwith  halted, 
and,  with  a  mercifulness  not  too  common  among 
Mexicans,  jumped  to  the  ground  in  order  to 
ease  his  steed  of  his  weight. 

There  he  stood,  nearly  two  miles  away,  with 
his  hand  on  the  burro's  shoulders,  watching 
the  retreating  enemy,  while  we  three  rode 
toward  him  at  a  leisurely  pace. 

As  will  be  readily  imagined,  there  was  great 
rejoicing  among  us  over  the  safe  return  of  our 
friend  and  partner,  and  a  great  shaking  of  hands 
all  round,  when,  hardly  giving  him  time  to  get 
his  breath  again,  Dick  and  I  plunged  head-first 
into  the  relation  of  all  we  had  done  since  we 
saw  him  last :  the  finding  of  the  head-gate  and 
the  building  of  the  flume  ;  triumphantly  con- 
cluding our  story  with  the  recovery  of  the 
patent  the  night  before. 

"  Well,  that  was  a  great  stroke,  sure  enough  1  " 
exclaimed  Arthur.  "  That  will  settle  the  busi- 
ness. The  *  stupid  peon '  got  ahead  of  the 
padron    that   time,    all    right.     But   before   we 


338  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

talk  about  anything  else,  Dick,"  he  went  on, 
"  I  have  something  I  want  to  tell  you  about, 
something  in  my  opinion — and  the  professor 
thinks  so  too — even  more  important — to  you 
— than  the  title  to  the  Hermanos  Grant." 

"  What's  that  ?  "  cried  my  partner,  alarmed  by 
his  serious  manner.    "  Nothing  wrong,  is  there?  " 

"  No,  there's  nothing  wrong,  I'm  glad  to  say. 
Quite  the  contrary,  in  fact.  I'm  half  afraid  to 
mention  it,  old  man,  for  fear  I  should  be  mis- 
taken after  all,  and  should  stir  you  up  all  for 
nothing,  but — why  didn't  you  tell  me,  Dick, 
that  your  name  was  Stanley  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  did  !  "  cried  Dick. 

"  No,  you  didn't,  old  fellow.  If  ^^ou  remem- 
ber, you  were  going  to  do  so  that  first  day  we 
met,  down  there  in  the  caiion  by  the  opening  of 
the  King  Philip  mine,  when  Pedro  interrupted 
you  by  remarking  that  the  darkness  would  catch 
us  if  we  stayed  there  any  longer." 

"  I  remember.  Yes,  that's  so.  Ah  !  I  see. 
That  was  why  you  addressed  your  letters  to  the 
professor  instead  of  to  me." 

"  Yes,  that  was  the  reason.  It  didn't  occur  to 
me  till  I  came  to  write  to  you  that  I  didn't  know 
your  name." 

"  That  was   rather  funny,   wasn't  it  ?  "  said 


The   Memorable  Twenty-Ninth      339 

Dick,  laughing.  "  Bat  I  don't  see  that  it  made 
much  difference  in  the  end  :  I  got  your  letters 
all  right." 

My  partner  spoke  rather  lightly,  but  Arthur 
on  the  other  hand  looked  so  serious,  not  to  say 
solemn,  that  Dick's  levity  died  out. 

"  What  is  it,  old  man  ?  "  lie  asked.  "  What 
diiference  does  it  make  whether  my  name  is 
Stanley  or  anything  else?" 

*'  It  makes  a  great  difference,  Dick,"  replied 
Arthur.  "  I  believe  " —  he  paused,  hesitating, 
and  then  went  on,  "  I'm  half  afraid  to  tell 
you,  for  fear  there  might  be  some  mistake  after 
all,  but — well — I  believe,  Dick,  that  I've  found 
out  who  you  are  and  where  you  came  from  !  " 

It  was  Dick's  turn  to  look  serious.  His  face 
turned  a  little  pale  under  its  sunburn. 

"  Go  on,"  said  he,  briefly. 

"  You  remember,  perhaps,"  Arthur  continued, 
"  how  I  told  you  that  one  reason  why  I  had  to 
go  back  by  way  of  Santa  Fe  was  because  I  had 
some  inquiries  to  make  on  behalf  of  my  mother. 
Well,  as  it  turned  out,  Santa  Fe  was  the  wrong 
place.  The  place  for  me  to  go  to  was  Mosby,  and 
the  man  for  me  to  ask  was — the  professor  I 

"  When  I  reached  Mosby  yesterday,"  he  con- 
tinued,  "  I  rode  straight  on   up  to  his  house, 


34^  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

when  the  kindly  old  gentleman,  as  soon  as  I  had 
explained  who  I  was,  made  me  more  than  wel- 
come. We  were  sitting  last  evening  talking, 
when  I  happened  to  cast  my  eye  on  the  profess- 
or's book  shelf,  and  there  I  saw  something  which 
brought  me  out  of  my  chair  like  a  shot.  It  was 
a  volume  of  Shakespeare,  one  of  a  set,  volume 
two — that  book  which  the  professor  found  in  the 
wagon-bed  when  he  found  you.  I  knew  the 
book  in  a  moment — for  we  have  the  rest  of  the 
set  at  home,  Dick  !  " 

Dick  stopped  his  horse  and  sat  silent  for  a 
moment,  staring  at  Arthur.  Then,  "  Go  on," 
said  he  once  more. 

"  I  pulled  the  book  down  from  the  shelf," 
Arthur  went  on,  "  and  looked  at  the  fly-leaf. 
There  was  an  inscription  there — I  knew  there 
would  be — '  Richard  Livingstone  Stanley,  from 
Anna.'  " 

"  Well,"  said  Dick.  His  voice  was  husky  and 
his  face  was  pale  enough  now. 

"  Dick,"  replied  Arthur,  reaching  out  and 
grasping  my  partner's  arm,  "  my  mother's  name 
was  Anna  Stanley,  and  she  gave  that  set  of 
Shakespeare  to  her  brother,  Richard,  on  his 
twenty-first  birthday  !  " 

For   a  time  Dick  sat  there  without  a  word, 


The  Memorable  Twenty-Ninth      341 

not  at  first  comprehending,  apparently,  the  sig- 
nificance of  these  facts— that  he  and  Arthur 
must  be  first  cousins — while  the  latter  quickly 
related  to  us  the  rest  of  the  story. 

Dick's  mother  having  died,  his  father  de- 
termined to  leave  Scotland  and  seek  his  for- 
tune in  the  new  territory  of  Colorado,  whose 
fame  was  then  making  some  stir  in  the  world. 
In  company,  then,  with  a  friend,  David  Scott — 
the  ''  Uncle  "  David  whom  Dick  faintly  remem- 
bered— he  set  out,  taking  the  boy  with  him. 

From  the  little  town  of  Pueblo,  on  the  Ar- 
kansas, Richard  Stanley  had  written  that  he 
intended  going  down  to  Santa  Fe,  and  that  was 
the  last  ever  heard  of  him.  At  that  time — the 
year  '64 — everything  westward  from  the  foot  of 
the  mountains  was  practically  wilderness.  Into 
this  wilderness  Richard  Stanley  had  plunged, 
and  there,  it  was  supposed,  he  and  his  son  and 
his  friend  had  perished. 

As  for  Dick,  he  seemed  to  be  dazed — and  no 
wonder.  For  a  boy  who  had  never  had  any 
relatives  that  he  knew  of  to  be  told  suddenly 
that  the  young  fellow  sitting  there  with  his  hand 
on  his  arm  was  his  own  cousin,  was  naturally  a 
good  deal  of  a  shock. 

If  it  needed  a  counter-shock  to  jolt  his  facul- 


342  The  Trail   of  the   Badger 

ties  back  into  place,  he  had  it,  and  it  was  I  who 
provided  it. 

In  order  to  give  the  pair  an  opportunity  to 
get  used  to  their  new  relationship,  I  was  about 
to  ride  forward  to  join  Pedro,  when  I  saw  the 
Mexican  suddenly  commence  cutting  up  all  sorts 
of  queer  antics,  jumping  about  and  waving  his 
arms  in  a  frantic  manner. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  Pedro  ?  "  I  called 
out.  "  Look  there,  you  fellows !  What's  the 
matter  with  Pedro  ?  " 

"Something  wrong  I  "  cried  Dick.    "  Get  up  !  " 

Away  we  went  at  a  gallop,  keeping  a  sharp 
lookout  in  all  directions  lest  those  three  men 
should  bob  up  again  from  somewhere,  while  the 
Mexican  himself,  jumping  upon  his  burro,  rode 
down  to  meet  us. 

"What's  up,  Pedro?"  Dick  shouted,  as  soon 
as  we  had  come  within  hearing.  "  Anything 
the  matter?  " 

"  Senores,"  cried  Pedro,  speaking  with  eager 
rapidity,  "  those  men  come  hunting  us.  I  watch 
them  ride  back  almost  to  the  Casa,  and  then  of 
a  sudden  they  change  their  minds  and  turn  up 
into  the  mountain.  The}^  think  to  catch  us, 
but" — he  stretched  out  his  great  hand  and  shut 
it  tight,  his  black  eyes  gleaming  with  excitement 


The  Memorable  Twenty-Ninth      343 

— "  if  the  seiiores  will  give  me  leave,  we  will 
catch  them  !  " 

If  his  surmise  was  right,  if  those  men  were 
indeed  coming  after  us  as  he  believed,  there  was 
no  question  that  if  any  of  us  could  beat  them  at 
that  game,  Pedro  was  the  one.  Dick  was  a  fine 
woodsman,  but  Pedro  was  a  finer — my  partner 
himself  would  have  been  the  first  to  acknowledge 
it — and  it  was  Dick  in  fact  who  promptly  replied  : 

"  Go  ahead,  Pedro  !  You're  captain  to-day  ! 
Take  the  lead  ;  we'll  follow  !  " 

"  ^Sta  bucno ! "  cried  the  Mexican,  greatly 
pleased.     "  Come,  then  !  " 

Turning  his  burro,  he  rode  quickly  back  to 
camp,  and  there,  at  his  direction,  having  un- 
saddled and  turned  loose  our  horses,  we  fol- 
lowed him  to  the  flume,  taking  with  us  nothing 
but  our  rifles. 

There  had  been  a  little  thunder-storm  the 
day  before,  and  the  soil  near  the  flume  was 
muddy.  Through  this  mud,  by  Pedro's  direc- 
tion, we  tramped ;  crossed  the  flume  on  the 
gangway  we  had  laid  for  the  purpose,  leaving 
muddy  tracks  as  we  went ;  jumped  down  at  the 
other  end  and  set  off  hot-foot  up  the  gully  to 
the  little  new-made  lake  and  thence  on  up  to 
the  old  lake ;  in  several  soft  places  purposely 


344  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

leaving  footmarks  which  could  not  escape 
notice. 

"What's  all  this  for,  Pedro?"  asked  Dick. 
"  What's  your  scheme  ?  " 

"  The  padron  will  see  our  tracks  crossing  the 
flume,"  replied  Pedro.  "  He  will  think  you 
take  Senor  Arturo  up  to  show  him  all  the  work 
you  have  done,  and  he  will  follow.  If  he  does 
so,  we  have  him  !  When  he  is  safe  across,  we 
slip  back,  and  then  I  hide  me  among  the  rocks 
on  the  other  side  and  guard  the  flume.  Without 
my  leave  they  cannot  cross  back  again.  Thus  I 
hold  them  on  the  wrong  side,  while  you  ride 
away  at  your  ease  to  Mosby.  Now,  come  quick 
with  me ! " 

So  saying,  Pedro  turned  at  right  angles  to  the 
line  of  the  ditch,  climbed  a  short  distance  up 
the  hillside,  and  then,  under  cover  of  the  trees, 
started  back  at  a  run,  until  presently  he  brought 
us  to  a  point  whence  we  could  look  down  upon 
the  flume,  its  approaches  at  both  ends,  and  the 
line  of  the  ditch  up  to  the  head  of  the  little  lake. 

Hitherto  it  had  been  all  bustle  and  activity, 
but  now  we  were  called  upon  to  exercise  a  new 
virtue,  one  always  difficult  to  fellows  of  our  age 
— patience. 

It  must  have  been  nearly  an  hour  that  we  had 


The   Memorable  Twenty-Ninth      345 

lain  there,  sometimes  talking  together  in 
whispers,  but  more  often  keeping  silence, 
when  Dick,  pulling  out  his  watch,  said  in  a  low 
voice  : 

"  If  those  fellows  are  coming,  I  wish  they'd 
come.  It's  twenty  minutes  past  two  ;  and  we're 
in  for  a  thunder-storm,  I'm  afraid.  Do  you 
notice  how  dark  it's  getting?  " 

"Yes,"  whispered  Arthur.  "And  such  a 
queer  darkness.  I'm  afraid  it's  a  forest  fire  and 
not  a  thunder-storm  that  is  making  it." 

"  I  believe  you're  right,"  replied  Dick.  "  It 
is  a  queer-colored  light,  isn't  it?  " 

We  could  not  see  the  sun  on  account  of  a  high 
cliff  at  the  foot  of  which  we  were  lying,  and  if 
we  had  had  any  thought  of  getting  up  to  look 
at  it,  we  were  stopped  by  Pedro,  who  at  this  mo- 
ment whispered  sharply  to  us  to  keep  quiet. 
His  quick  eyes  had  detected  a  movement  on  the 
far  side  of  the  canon. 

Intently  we  watched,  and  presently  the  figure 
of  a  man  stepped  out  from  among  the  trees. 
Advancing  cautiously  to  the  end  of  the  flume, 
he  examined  the  tracks  in  the  mud,  climbed  up 
to  the  gang-plank,  inspected  the  tracks  again, 
and  turning,  made  a  sign  with  his  hand  ;  where- 
upon two  other  men  stepped  out  from  among 


34^  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

the  trees.  The  three  then  crossed  the  flume, 
jumped  down,  and  set  off  up  the  gully. 

We  watched  them  as  they  followed  the  ditch 
up  to  the  new  lake,  and  thence  to  the  draw  which 
led  up  to  the  old  lake.  At  the  mouth  of  the  draw 
they  paused  for  some  time,  hesitating,  doubtless, 
whether  they  should  trust  themselves  in  that 
deep,  narrow  crevice — a  veritable  trap,  for  all 
they  knew. 

Presumably,  however,  they  made  up  their 
minds  to  risk  it,  for  on  they  went,  and  a  few 
minutes  later  were  lost  to  sight. 

By  this  time  the  darkness  had  so  increased 
that  the  men  were  hardly  distinguishable, 
though  they,  themselves,  seemed  to  take  no 
notice  of  it.  The  sun  was  behind  them,  and  so 
intent  were  they  in  following  our  tracks  and 
keeping  watch  ahead,  that  they  never  thought 
to  cast  a  glance  upward  to  see  what  was  coming. 

"  Pedro,"  whispered  Dick,  as  soon  as  the  men 
had  vanished,  "  let  us  get  out  of  here.  Either 
the  woods  are  on  fire  or  there'll  be  a  tremendous 
storm  down  on  us  directl3^" 

Pedro,  however,  requested  us  to  wait  another 
five  minutes,  when,  jumping  to  his  feet,  he  cried  : 

"  Come,  then  !  Let  us  get  back  !  We  have 
them  safe  now  !  " 


The   Memorable  Twenty-Ninth      347 

Down  we  ran,  but  no  sooner  had  we  got  clear 
of  the  trees  than  Pedro  stopped  short.  In  a 
frightened  voice — the  first  and  only  time  I  ever 
knew  him  to  show  fear — he  ejaculated  : 

"  Look  there  I     Look  there  !  " 

Following  his  pointing  finger,  we  looked  up. 
The  uncanny  darkness  was  accounted  for  :  — a 
great  semi-circular  piece  seemed  to  have  been 
bitten  out  of  the  sun  ! 

"  The  eclipse  !  "  cried  Arthur.  "  I'd  forgotten 
all  about  it.  This  is  the  twenty-ninth  of  July. 
The  newspapers  were  full  of  it,  but  I'd  forgotten 
all  about  it !  " 

"  A  total  eclipse,  isn't  it  ?  "  asked  Dick, quickly. 

"Yes,  total." 

"  Then  it  will  be  a  great  deal  darker  presently. 
We'd  better  get  out  of  this,  and  cross  the  flume 
while  we  can  see." 

In  fact,  it  w^as  already  so  dark  that  the  small 
birds,  thinking  it  was  night,  were  busily  going 
to  bed ;  the  night-hawks  had  come  out,  the 
curious  whir  of  their  wings  sounding  above  our 
heads  ;  and  then — a  sound  which  made  us  all 
start — there  came  the  long-drawn  howl  of  a  wolf ! 

"  Run  !  "  shouted  Dick.  '*  They'll  be  after  us 
directly  !  " 

Undoubtedly,   the  wolves,  too,  were  deceived 


348  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

into  the  belief  that  night  was  approaching,  for 
even  as  Dick  spoke  we  heard  in  three  or  four 
different  directions  the  hunting-cry  of  the  packs. 
Wasting  no  time,  as  will  be  imagined,  away  we 
went,  scrambled  up  on  the  gang-plank  of  the 
tin  me,  and  there  stopped  to  listen. 

"  1  hope  those  men  " — Dick  began  ;  when, 
from  the  direction  of  the  draw  above  there 
arose  a  fearful  clamor  of  howling.  There  was  a 
shot !  Another  and  another,  in  quick  succes- 
sion !  And  then,  piercing  through  and  rising 
above  all  other  sounds,  there  went  up  a  cry  so 
dreadful  that  it  turned  us  sick  to  hear  it.  What 
had  happened  ? 

The  hour  that  followed  was  the  worst  I  ever 
endured,  as  we  crouched  there  in  the  darkness 
and  the  silence,  not  knowing  what  had  oc- 
curred up  above. 

At  length  the  shadow  moved  across  the  face 
of  the  sun,  it  was  brilliant  day  once  more,  when, 
the  moment  we  thought  it  safe  to  venture,  down 
we  jumped  and  set  off  up  the  line  of  the  ditch. 
We  had  not  gone  a  quarter-mile  when  we  saw 
two  men  coming  down,  running  frantically.  In 
a  few  seconds  they  had  reached  the  spot  where 
we  stood  waiting  for  them,  not  knowing  exactly 
what  we  were  to  expect  of  them. 


The  Memorable  Twenty-Ninth      349 

Never  have  I  seen  such  panic  terror  as  these 
men  exhibited  ;  they  were  white  and  trembling 
and  speechless.  For  two  or  three  minutes  we 
could  get  nothing  out  of  them,  but  at  length 
one  of  them  recovered  himself  enough  to  tell  us 
what  had  happened. 

The  wolves  had  caught  them  in  that  narrow, 
precipitous  arroyo,  coming  from  both  ends  at 
once.  The  two  men,  themselves,  had  succeeded 
in  scrambling  up  to  a  safe  place,  but  Galvez, 
attempting  to  do  the  same,  had  lost  his  hold 
and   fallen   back.     Before   he  could  recover  his 

feet  the  wolves  were  upon  him,  and  then ! 

Well — no  wonder  those  men  were  sick  and  pale 
and  trembling ! 

That  the  padron's  designs  against  us  had  been 
evil  there  could  be  no  doubt — in  fact,  his  shiver- 
ing henchmen  admitted  as  much — but,  quite 
unsuspicious  of  the  coming  of  the  midday  dark- 
ness, and  knowing  nothing  of  the  fierce  nature  of 
these  "  island  "  wolves,  he  had  run  himself  into 
that  fatal  trap.     It  was  truly  a  dreadful  ending. 

Does  any  one  wonder  now  that  the  date  of  the 
eclipse  of  78  should  be  so  indelibly  stamped  on 
our  memories? 

There    being    now  nothing  to  interfere  with 


350  The  Trail  of  the  Badger 

us,  we  went  down  to  Hermanos  and  took  pos- 
session of  the  Casa,  and  from  that  time  forward 
the  work  on  our  irrigation  system  moved  along 
without  let  or  hindrance  from  anything  but  the 
seasons. 

But  though  it  was  now  plain  sailing,  and 
though  we  eventually  got  together  a  force  of 
twenty  Mexicans  to  do  the  digging,  the  amount 
of  work  was  so  great  that  we  had  not  nearly 
finished  that  part  of  the  ditch  which  wound 
over  the  foothills  when  frost  came  and  stopped 
us.  We  at  once  moved  everything  down  to  the 
village  and  began  again  at  that  end,  keeping  hard 
at  it  until  frost  stopped  us  once  more,  and  finally 
for  that  year. 

In  fact,  it  was  not  until  the  spring  of  '80  that 
we  at  last  turned  in  the  water — a  moderate 
amount  at  first — but  since  then  the  quantity 
has  been  increased  year  by  year,  until  now  we 
are  supplying  at  an  easy  rental  a  great  number 
of  small  farms,  many  of  them  cultivated  by 
Mexicans,  but  the  majority  by  Americans. 

The  largest  of  the  farms  is  that  run  by  the 
two  cousins  and  myself,  and  its  management, 
together  with  the  supervision  and  maintenance 
of  the  water-supply  keeps  us  all  three  on  the 
jump. 


The   Memorable  Twenty-Ninth      351 

As  for  old  Pedro,  he  stuck  to  his  mountain 
until  just  lately,  when  we  persuaded  him  to 
come  down  and  take  up  his  residence  on  the 
ranch  ;  though  even  now,  every  fall  he  goes 
off  for  a  three-months'  hunt  and  we  see  nothing 
of  him  till  the  first  snow  sends  him  down 
again. 

He  is  a  privileged  character,  allowed  to  go 
and  come  as  he  pleases  ;  for  we  do  not  forget 
his  great  services  in  turning  this  worthless  des- 
ert into  a  flourishing  community  of  busy  wheat- 
farmers  and  fruit-growers ;  nor  do  we  forget 
that  it  was  really  he  who  started  the  whole 
business. 

As  to  that,  though,  we  are  not  likely  to  for- 
get it,  for  we  have  on  hand  a  constant  re- 
minder. 

Above  the  fireplace  in  our  house  there  hangs, 
plain  to  be  seen,  a  relic  with  which  we  would 
not  part  at  any  price — the  "  indicator  "  which 
pointed  the  way  for  us  when  we  first  set  out 
on  this  enterprise — the  original  copper-headed 
arrow  1 


THE    END 


